Tabula Rasa
by Rackham Rose
Summary: After the disastrous encounter at Rainbow Bridge, Subaru's innermost Wish has changed. Can he handle having it granted? (Sidestory A and Chapter Nine added. Happy holidays. ^^)
1. Prologue

**prologue**  
  
*`-,--  
  
"So you've chosen us."  
  
Subaru lit his cigarette and took a deep drag, letting the smoke burn the back of his throat. The dim first glow of dawn, filtering across the ruins of Rainbow Bridge, made the little cloud he exhaled seem almost luminous.  
  
"There was no choice to make, Monou-san." His voice sounded strangely hollow in his ears. "When I killed the Sakurazukamori, I took on the title, and being a Dragon of Earth goes along with that."  
  
He could feel Fuuma's eyes moving steadily across his face--analysing him, perhaps? A few days ago he might have found that offensive, or laughable in a twisted way. Now he simply felt nothing beyond the reflex of intellect: stimulus, response, interpret.  
  
"You could have gone back to the sidelines. You don't have to fight now."  
  
"I don't care." He took another drag off the cigarette. "At any rate, I can't go back. What's done is--"  
  
He was interrupted by a guttural chuckle. "Please. Cliches don't suit you, Sumeragi-san. I know why you've joined our side... and I have to say, it was a step in the right direction."  
  
_More of this cryptic shit,_ Subaru thought. Emotions aside, he was really getting sick of all the rhetorical trappings that went along with Destiny.  
  
"Look, Monou-san, if you have something to say to me--"  
  
"--yes, I know, I should cut to the chase." Fuuma folded his arms across his chest. "You're already aware that I have the ability to sense your innermost wish."  
  
Subaru made a little noise of disgust. "I thought we already covered that when you ripped out my eye."  
  
"Heh. That was what you wished for then... honestly, I should have expected that your wish would change."  
  
"Well, it has." He shifted his weight a little, turning his attention to the pearl-grey clouds being tainted white and lavender by the slow sunrise. _I have nothing to wish for,_ he mused. _The dead don't come back to life. Destiny keeps steamrolling ahead. I have--_  
  
"You don't even know how, do you?" The Dark Kamui laughed once, a spurt of low sound. "You don't know what your own wish is now that it's changed. How fitting that a former representative of humanity should demonstrate humanity's ignorance of itself."  
  
Subaru's eyes narrowed. This was getting very old very fast.  
  
"I didn't ask for this position, and I didn't ask for you to come here and mess with my head, so if you don't--"  
  
"Subaru."  
  
Before he could turn away, he felt Fuuma's hand close over his wrist. He didn't respond; the touch inspired nothing in him.  
  
"I can show you what you want most--I can _give_ it to you, freely and without any conditions attached. As a gift for joining us, if you want to look at it that way."  
  
Subaru took a last puff at the cigarette before letting it fall from his mouth.  
  
"I don't want a gift. If you're going to do something to me, get it over with; I don't care. Just quit playing around."  
  
The younger man's hand was moving up his arm now, trailing fingertips gently up his sleeve.  
  
"This is your choice, then."  
  
He didn't have time to react--quite suddenly Fuuma's hand was on his throat, pushing his head back; out of the corner of his good eye, Subaru could see the younger man's free hand curling slowly into a fist. How appropriate--he was going to kill him the way Seishirou hadn't been able to.   
  
A dull ache gathered in his chest, pulsing once before the numbness took over again.  
  
His eyelids drooped. _Yes. This is my choice._  
  
Fuuma smiled outright and plunged his fist into Subaru's heart.  
  
For a very long moment, there was nothing. No rush of warmth or cold, no razor-edged twinge of hurt--just the same familiar sensation of emptiness. So this was death: nothing more than a quiet, emotionless fade-out before dawn.  
  
His head tilted back. The sky above him was purple and peach, almost like the inside of a wet seashell.  
  
And then the pain hit.  
  
Searing, ripping, twisting--this was like fire and like a hurricane and like nothing his mind could take in. His consciousness warped in on itself, buckling with the sheer force of hurt. His senses blurred together, his memories slurred and re-wove themselves; in an instant he saw everything and nothing, every angle of time and possibility...  
  
As if in a dream, he saw himself: the almost-sunlight stained his white coat pink as he arched back from the Dark Kamui. Another wave of pain hit, and his not-vision blurred furiously for a moment; when it cleared, he could see Fuuma drawing away ever-so-slowly, something grasped tightly in his hand. For a moment he wondered if it were his heart--and then, dimly, the sense of something _not quite right_ registered.   
  
He struggled to focus, to make his collapsing mind process what was happening. There was line and texture and the ironically soft colours of the sunrise--why was there no red? Why didn't he see the slick wetness of blood?  
  
His attention flicked back to Fuuma as little razor-lines danced across his consciousness. The younger man's long, slender fingers, miraculously free of blood, were tightly clenched around something--it almost looked like Seishirou's _shikigami,_ one dark wet wing hanging loosely in the Dark Kamui's grip.   
  
No, wait. Feathers didn't curl like that. Feathers didn't have that damp sheen...  
  
Subaru blinked. _Leather?_  
  
The limp thing stirred slightly, and quite suddenly it made sense.  
  
Fuuma's fingers were wrapped around a black-gloved hand.  
  
_no... nononono, that's impossible..._  
  
_Your wish is to forget, Sumeragi Subaru._ Fuuma's voice was a low, velvet purr inside his head. _Your wish is to become **tabula rasa,** to forget everything that has ever hurt you--the Seals, the Angels, the Sakurazukamori and the man you loved._  
  
He yanked, and the pain drove the Sakurazukamori to his knees, drawing a thin wet screech from his throat as a red and black and ivory blur smudged itself into the space above his chest.  
  
_Your wish is my command._  
  
The sun, magnificently orange, surfaced at the edge of the city skyline and flooded Tokyo with light.  
  
Subaru passed out.  
  



	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer, which should have come before the prologue:**  
Everyone probably already knows that I do not now, nor will I ever (unless by some fluke of really dumb luck), own X. That said, this chapter is rated PG-13 for language and what the movie-rating-people would call "mature thematic elements". Oh, and not a lot of shounen-ai here... but there will be later. (It is, after all, a CLAMPfic! ^_^)  
  
*`-,--  
  
"Arisugawa Sorata."  
  
The familiar icy baritone jolted Sorata out of his meditation. His first reaction was to panic--the window was locked, he was sure it was locked, he'd made _absolutely sure_ of it the night before--  
  
"Arisugawa Sorata, first of the Seals..."  
  
Oh God. Here he was in his goddamn _pajamas,_ and Fuuma was staring him down from the windowsill. No, wait... shit, there were two of them. That white-haired, sexless _thing_ was standing by Fuuma's side, with a look of utter boredom plastered across its face.  
  
"...guardian of Mount Kouya..."  
  
He gritted his teeth. Nothing for it but to summon a kekkai and hope for the best...   
  
"...I believe this belongs to you."   
  
Sorata blinked, rendered helpless with confusion as the Dark Kamui's servant stepped down from the windowsill and onto the carpet. For the first time, he noticed that it was carrying something--no, some_one,_ a human figure wrapped in an enormous red jacket, lying limp and sorrowfully pale in its arms.   
  
"Take it," Nataku said, offering out the body.   
  
"Now wait just a minute--"   
  
"Take it," Fuuma repeated. "We haven't got all day."   
  
Sorata was almost ashamed at how quickly he held out his arms, but the chagrin turned instantly to concern when the unnaturally light burden was dumped into his hands. It looked and felt like a kid... another one of Kamui's friends Fuuma had decided to torture to death?   
  
"What th' hell is this?" he hissed.   
  
Fuuma's smile was wry. "Something for which I am no longer responsible."   
  
"Now you wait--"   
  
But the grey mist of morning outside had swallowed both Angels, leaving the room full of still, warm silence.  
  
Sorata looked down at the body in his arms.  
  
"Well, _that_ was weird," he mused.  
  
And, as if in agreement, the child stirred.  
  
* * *  
  
The darkness was hot, and it was all-encompassing.  
  
Subaru felt it creep over him like a fever, teasing his senses into vertigo--he couldn't feel his surroundings; he was trapped--  
  
With a gasp, he jolted into full consciousness.  
  
Shadows shaped themselves into flat planes and curves. He began to see flat silver surfaces, and the constant whine of electricity began to flood his ears. Pale light--green and grey, with the occasional accenting flash of red--outlined the long serpentlike curves of huge cables, twined together in almost-perfect silence like the smooth shapes of foreign handwriting.  
  
He was, he realised with a start, lying inside the hot, cramped metal heart of a machine.  
  
"H... hello?" He heard his voice crack and echo in the semi-darkness. "Is anyone there?"  
  
"About time you got up."  
  
The voice was clear and young and female, and its tone held just enough hostility to make Subaru look up warily.  
  
Sitting at an enormous silvery console, her skin palely pink against the dull grey metal, was a teenaged girl. Black wires snaked from her arms and shoulders, like extensions of the veins that lay beneath the skin; black-framed glasses glinted from the bridge of her nose, and her black tank-top had the oily sheen of vinyl.  
  
He was fairly sure he recognised her from somewhere... one of the seven Dragons of Earth, no doubt. She flashed him a little smile that could almost have been a smirk, and then began to climb down from the console, easily disentangling herself from the wires' intimate embrace.   
  
"Welcome back," she said dryly. "Took you long enough."  
  
He rubbed the back of his neck. "How long... have I been out?"  
  
"A couple of hours." For the first time, he noticed her cropped and blond-streaked hair was damp and fluffed out awkwardly around her head; a fine sheen of sweat shone on her face. _"Kamui-san_ brought you back and I didn't feel like waking you."  
  
_Kamui..._ The memory of that gloved hand emerging from his chest was raw in his mind.  
  
"What did he do to me?"  
  
The girl made a little noise of irritation and opened her mouth to speak, but the voice he heard next wasn't hers.  
  
"What he did, Sumeragi-san, was to give you what you wanted."  
  
* * *   
  
A quick search of the Imonoyama mansion--conducted mostly through yelling--turned up only a few fully conscious Seals. Karen and Arashi were both more than willing to abandon breakfast to examine their "guest"; Seiichiro, who had been trying to fix the Imonoyamas' coffee machine, was quick to follow.  
  
They were quick to decide that the newcomer, whom Sorata had laid out on the living-room couch, was indeed a boy. Although his features were delicate and pixyish, his thin frame was too compact to be a girl's, a fact which was illustrated all too well by the way his black mock-turtleneck clung to the angles and hollows of his upper body. His arms and shoulders, however, were nearly drowned out by the red jacket he wore, which trailed nearly all the way down to his black-gloved fingertips.   
  
"Poor baby," Karen murmured. "He looks half dead. Do you know who he is?"  
  
Sorata shook his head. "Not a clue."  
  
"Whoever he is, it looks like the Dark Kamui didn't do anything to him," Arashi pointed out. "There's not a mark on him."  
  
"I don't know." Karen shifted a little; she looked as if she wanted nothing more than to reach over and stroke the boy's messy bangs back from his face. "He might have been through more than we can tell, right now..."  
  
"Well, he's still breathing, and that's gotta be a good sign. Right?"  
  
"Sorata-san, _not_ appropriate," Arashi hissed.  
  
"Hey, hey, don't get all worked up, I was just tryin' to lighten the mo--"  
  
The boy let out a soft moan, and his eyelids flickered slightly.  
  
"Sorata-kun? Is he all right?"  
  
"Dunno, Aoki-san, he could just be wakin' up--"  
  
"Sorata-san, did it ever occur to you that he might have a concus--"  
  
"...Ho... Hokuto-chan...?"  
  
The four Seals froze as one. The boy was stirring now, probably reacting to the vivid images of a nearly-finished dream; his pale, pretty face was clouded by a confused frown. "Hokuto-chan, where..."  
  
"Who's Hokuto?" Arashi whispered.  
  
As if on cue, the boy let out a strangled cry, and his eyes shot open.  
  
"Easy, easy!" Karen's hand was already on his shoulder, her un-lipsticked mouth twisted with concern. "It was just a dream... you're all right now..."  
  
The boy whimpered, calming slowly as the older woman murmured little words of comfort to him; eventually he relaxed enough to look over at her.  
  
Seiichiro had the presence of mind to cover his mouth with one hand before a gasp worked its way out--the stranger had striking green eyes, a shade too brilliant to forget easily. And he _knew,_ with marrow-deep conviction, when and where he had seen those eyes before.  
  
"Where am I?" the boy asked, slowly.  
  
"Tokyo." Karen paused, and then added, "Safe."  
  
"With friends, to be precise," Sorata put in cheerfully.  
  
"...friends?" The stranger began to sit up, frowning in the direction of the other Seals.  
  
"Yeah! Sure, why not. Or at least, it'll be official when we've got a name to call ya by--you do have a name, right kiddo?"  
  
"Of course." He tilted his head, as if the answer Sorata wanted were obvious enough not to warrant the question.   
  
"It's Sumeragi Subaru."   
  
* `-,--  
  
Feel free to leave feedback! I love comments and I promise I won't bite. ^_^ 


	3. Chapter Two

**Author's Note:**  
Watch out, Martha, here come the mature thematic elements again! (Also I just really like that phrase.)  
Also, just a note to everyone who left feedback: I'm so glad you-all like it so much! ^o^ *bows* And the plot's not even at its twistiest yet. *grin* Buckle your seatbelts.  
  
*`-,--  
  
"Satsuki-chan, I do hope our guest hasn't been bothering you."  
  
The woman who addressed him now was stunningly lovely, with a body whose curves could have formed the new symbol for "sin". Long hair cascaded down her back and over her shapely shoulders, and her dress was red against the room's shadows. For a dizzy moment Subaru wondered if his fevered brain might have conjured her up on its own--surely no human woman _actually_ looked and dressed like this.   
  
She smiled at him, and as her piercing eyes narrowed, he noticed the outlines of a symbol on her forehead--a symbol he had seen only once or twice before, on the forehead of a woman as doll-like as this one was alluring...  
  
"...a... _yumemi?_" he whispered.  
  
The girl she had called Satsuki brushed past him to stand beside her, leaning gently into the hollow of her shoulder; for the first time, Subaru noticed how _tall_ the strange woman was.  
  
"I'm fine, Kanoe-san," Satsuki said. _"He_ seems confused, though."  
  
"Poor child, I wouldn't expect any less."  
  
"Who are you?" Subaru managed; his voice was little more than a dry rasp.  
  
"Hinoto didn't tell you she has a little sister?" The woman's red, red lips curved into a pout. "I'm wounded."  
  
"So you're--you're a _yumemi_ like she is."  
  
"Correct. Satsuki-chan, would you leave us for a moment? And if you see Yuuto-san, tell him we're expecting a guest for tea."   
  
The girl shot Subaru a glance over the rims of her glasses, but murmured something that sounded like assent and retreated.  
  
"So. Sumeragi-san... it's such a pleasure to finally meet you."   
  
* * *  
  
No one moved.  
  
The young man kept his clear, glass-green eyes fixed on Sorata's face, as if he were puzzled as to why anyone would ask something so very obvious as his name.  
  
"And... may I ask for your name?" he inquired, his tone polite.   
  
Sorata opened his mouth, but his brain refused to cough up the required information, choosing instead to come up with the spectacularly articulate response "...uh."  
  
Fortunately, Karen didn't seem quite as dazed as she looked. "Subaru-san," she said gently, "you don't remember us?"  
  
"I..." A rather pitiful, lost expression began to pull at his features. "...I'm sorry, ma'am... should I?"  
  
Seiichiro felt a small strong hand tug at his sleeve, and then Arashi's voice was hissing in his ear. "Outside. We need to talk."   
  
He let her pull him outside without any protests; Sorata followed, naturally inclined not to leave Arashi's side. Once they were out of earshot of Karen and their visitor, Arashi turned fiercely worried glances on both of them.  
  
"When was the last time you saw Subaru-san?" she demanded.   
  
"Not since his kekkai broke--"  
  
"The boy's telling the truth," Seiichiro said softly. "I'm _sure_ he is."  
  
Arashi frowned up at him, prompting him to continue.  
  
"I don't really know how to explain it--it's--it's his eyes," he explained. "You don't forget eyes that colour. And his voice sounds the same, he looks like he's almost the same height... and... who knows? Maybe the other Kamui's cast a spell on him..."  
  
"Yeah, but why?" Sorata rubbed the back of his neck. "That's what's been makin' my brain burn. I mean, if he _is_ Subaru-san, how come he's not dead? It's not really whatsisname's style to just bespell somebody an' then dump him right back into a safe harbour."  
  
"I'm not sure he _is_ Subaru-san." Arashi frowned. "How could his eye have healed? And he looks at least ten years younger--"  
  
"I'll try talking to him," Seiichiro put in. "After all, he is probably the best person to ask about this. Please wait out here... and if Kamui-san gets up, let him know what's going on, all right?"   
  
"No prob, Aoki-san." Sorata grinned. "You can count on me!"  
  
"On _us,_" Arashi corrected, just before Seiichiro began to jog back down the corridor.   
  
* * *  
  
"Where's Monou-san?"  
  
"Goodness, aren't we anxious to get down to business."  
  
The woman's light, sarcastic tone was beginning to fray Subaru's already-taut nerves. "This isn't funny. I want to know what he did to me--"  
  
"I already told you, as did he, Sumeragi-san." The _yumemi_ tilted her head slightly, dark hair cascading down to coil between her barely-covered breasts like an attendant snake. "He granted your wish."  
  
He frowned. "I don't understand."  
  
"No? Close your eyes."  
  
That caught him by surprise. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Close your eyes, Sumeragi-san. You'll see what I mean."  
  
He felt helpless for a long moment, then humoured her. He closed his eyes, and his range of vision collapsed into darkness--  
  
And then--  
  
_"You sounded like you were having quite a nightmare, Subaru-san."_  
  
The voice was familiar, a low feminine sound like a clarinet--and then the face it belonged to swam into view behind his eyes.  
  
His eyes. Both eyes. Neither one was ruined; his vision was perfect, and this was no memory--it was too real to be--  
  
_"I... did I disturb you, Kasumi-san?"_  
  
That voice... _his own voice,_ as clear as if he had spoken aloud, but... changed, a little. Higher, the way it had sounded when he was sixteen.  
  
_"Of course not. And you can call me Karen, Subaru-san."  
  
"Ah! I'm sorry, Karen-san."_  
  
Soft laughter. _"Whoever says the young don't know anything about manners certainly never met you."_  
  
He opened his eyes to half a field of vision, all of which was filled by Kanoe's smirking face.  
  
"You wished to forget, Sumeragi-san," she said softly, "and so a part of you has. Do you remember the way you were before you met Sakurazuka-san? The very day before? You knew nothing; you had not yet walked through the flames that would forge you into who you are now. When you became a killer, and your first wish died, your life stretched before you like a wasteland--am I right?"  
  
He didn't move.  
  
"With a life you could not fill except by remembering everything you lost, what was left to wish for but forgetfulness? You wanted a life where you wouldn't have to remember, where your slate had been wiped clean. The day before you met Sakurazuka-san--one very beautiful day when you were sixteen--that was the cleanest you ever were." She chuckled softly. "True, you were marked, but you were not yet prey... and you were still a very promising candidate for the Dragons of Heaven."  
  
He swayed on his feet. "So... what I just saw..."  
  
"No one but Sumeragi Subaru could fill that empty position among the Seals." She brought a hand up to touch his cheek; he nearly shuddered at how cold her palm felt against his face. "The Sumeragi Subaru who is with them now is the embodiment of your wish. He is all emotion and innocence and he remembers nothing. But you..."  
  
The smile that curved her lips was cruel.  
  
"You are power, Sumeragi-san. And you are one of us."  
  
He closed his eyes again, watched the world through the clouded vision of his younger self.  
  
_She's right,_ he thought. _I don't belong to that side anymore. I just... don't **believe** in it.  
  
So what **do** you believe in?_ some distant part of his mind nagged.  
  
As Kanoe's hand began to make its way towards his ear, stroking his hair as if he were a child who needed calming, the answer came clear and strong as the sound of a glass breaking.  
  
_Power._  
  
"Wise choice, Sumeragi-san," Kanoe purred.  
  
"Please," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Just Sumeragi."   
  
*`-,--  
  
Apologies if Kanoe sounded rather like Agent Smith from _The Matrix_... *sweatdrop* 


	4. Chapter Three

**Author's Note:**  
Keep your seatbelts securely fastened. Language, Agent-Smith-like Kanoe, small hints of gay, and Karen's hidden talent.  
For those of you unfamiliar with the term, _mochi_ is a kind of rice-flour candy, similar to marzipan in texture but with a very different taste.  
(Very special thanks to Dools, because of her l33t fact-checking skillz, and because she encouraged me to keep Kanoe's "basement" comment. ^_^)  
  
*`-,--  
  
"Aoki Seiichiro-san... very pleased to meet you, sir."  
  
Seiichiro was slightly taken aback at how polite this younger Subaru acted. True, the man he had known had never spoken a single uncivil word--but then, they had rarely spoken at all, much less smiled as readily as this teenager.  
  
"Pleased to... ah... meet you as well, Subaru-san."  
  
The young man shifted a little, tugging nervously at one of his sleeves with slender gloved fingers. "I'm sorry, sir, but... you've all been acting like I should know you, and... I don't really even know where I am."  
  
"It's all right, Subaru-san..." Seiichiro paused, trying to think of a good approach to the conversation. If Subaru had lost _all_ his memory of the past few months, or beyond that--how could he explain the current situation, or avoid bringing up painful events the boy couldn't remember?  
  
Karen seemed to have been thinking along the same lines, for she was quick to speak up.  
  
"We think," she said gently, "that you may have hurt your head and lost some of your memory. Would you mind telling us the last thing you remember?"  
  
Subaru cocked his head slightly. "Well, my birthday party... mine and my sister's. We just turned sixteen..." Suddenly his green eyes went wide and concerned. "Where is she? Is she staying here, too?"  
  
"She's perfectly safe, Subaru-san." In a sense, Seiichiro thought, it wasn't _really_ a lie... at least, not as far as he knew.  
  
"Where is she? Can I see her?"  
  
"She's in Hong Kong."  
  
Karen's expression was unwavering; Seiichiro had to fight not to stare at her. He didn't think he'd ever heard an excuse _that_ outrageous in his entire life... and, from the way Subaru's mouth was now hanging open, he guessed he wasn't alone in his reaction.  
  
_"Hong Kong?"_ the boy stammered. "B-but why?"  
  
"Subaru-san, does the term 'Dragon of Heaven' mean anything to you?"  
  
"Well... yes... My grandmother told me a little about that, and about the Kamui..." He looked down at his gloved hands, and then, with a thoughtful frown, glanced quickly back up at the two adults. "What does that have to do with Hokuto-chan?"  
  
"Subaru-san, these are very dangerous times. Both, er, versions of the Kamui have awakened, and..." If Karen was making all this up on the spot, she was doing a marvellous job of covering that fact. "...frankly, it just wasn't safe for her to stay in the country, considering how important you are. She knew the Dragons of Earth might try to harm her to get at you, and she didn't want you to have to suffer... so... she's staying with a good friend until it's safe to get back in contact."  
  
_She should be writing spy novels,_ Seiichiro thought, with some astonishment.  
  
"Oh... I see!" Subaru bowed a little in his seat. "Thank you, I was getting really worried... we don't really spend much time apart, and--" Then he seemed to actually register the rest of her story, and his face went from glad to worried in what seemed like half a heartbeat. "But when did Kamui--when did all this start? I don't remember that at _all!"_  
  
"Well, you see--"   
  
And, in the room at the end of the corridor, Shirou Kamui screamed.  
  
* * *  
  
"It won't hurt to get to know your colleagues, Sumeragi-kun."   
  
Sumeragi made a little noise of irritation as Kanoe led him towards the door, through the small labyrinth of cables; every so often one of them would move slightly against the floor, like a pulsing vein under the surface of a wound.  
  
"I didn't say I didn't want to," he said.  
  
"I know. But it never hurts to make certain, does it?"  
  
"...hn..." A cable flicked at Sumeragi's ankle, and he flinched. "Where _are_ we?"  
  
"The basement." Kanoe flashed him a wicked little smile, delicately picking her way towards the door.  
  
"Oh, that's specific."  
  
"If you mean in Tokyo, this is the Metropolitan Government Building. I have to admit I'll be rather sorry to see it fall... One of the few disadvantages to seeing the future is that you know you'll have to lose your favourite chair." She sighed; he honestly couldn't tell whether or not she was being sarcastic. "Such is life, I suppose."  
  
Sumeragi wasn't sure he wanted to invite further conversation.   
  
Fortunately, another voice--male, this time--intervened before the _yumemi_ could continue.  
  
"Is this our guest, Kanoe-san?"  
  
He glanced past her. Leaning against the room's immense doorframe was a rather pleasant-looking man with tousled blond hair, who was watching them both with what looked like intense interest. Sumeragi noticed with mild surprise that the man was, like himself, wearing mostly black beneath an off-white trenchcoat; the dark green scarf slung around his broad shoulders was the only hint of colour on him.  
  
"Ahh... Yuuto." Kanoe grinned, inclining her head so that another long coil of hair slithered down over her shoulder. "So glad Satsuki-chan managed to track you down."  
  
The man flashed her a rather charming little smile. "Am I so difficult to get hold of?"  
  
"Not generally... but, before I forget. Yuuto, this is Sumeragi Subaru, the new Sakurazukamori... Sumeragi-kun, this is Kigai Yuuto, our resident watercaster."  
  
Yuuto stepped forward and extended his hand in a a single fluid, impeccably polite motion. "Very pleased to meet you, Sumeragi-san."  
  
Sumeragi managed what he hoped was a faint smile, and shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Kigai-san."  
  
"Is Satsuki-chan upstairs?" Kanoe cut in.  
  
"She is." Yuuto ran a hand through his hair, tousling it just a little further. "She wanted to know if she should take the _mochi_ out of the refrigerator."  
  
"Well, why not? It's a special occasion." She stepped past both men to stand on the threshold. "We might even call it a celebration of sorts."  
  
"And what are we celebrating?" Yuuto asked, his gaze wandering back to Sumeragi's face for just a moment; the Sakurazukamori found himself fidgeting.  
  
Kanoe's laugh rippled through the air, low and dangerous.  
  
"We'll be celebrating... equilibrium."  
  
* * *  
  
_"No!"_  
  
Kamui was drowning in one of his own nightmares.  
  
His eyes were wide and unseeing; the bedsheets had twisted around his body during the night, and now he thrashed hard against them, as if they were holding him away from preventing disaster. _"No--!"_  
  
"Kamui? Kamui, c'mon, can you hear me? Kamui!" Sorata was trying to shake him into wakefulness, his own face as full of concern as the younger boy's was with fear.  
  
"Fuuma, stop--please stop--" Kamui's voice was choked and heavy, thick with urgency. "Oh god, the bridge--_Subaru--"_   
  
It seemed as if everyone began to speak at once.  
  
"Is he all right?"  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
"Did the Dark Kamui--"  
  
"Where th'hell is Imonoyama-san when ya need him?"  
  
And then, breathless, from the doorway: "Who called for me?"   
  
Everyone looked up at once. For the first time, Subaru actually resembled his older self--the look of protective determination on his face was exactly the same in its intensity and unconscious power.   
  
"He's--we think it's a bad dream--" Sorata blinked. "What's--"   
  
"Here."  
  
Almost before he was really aware of what was going on, Sorata felt a gloved hand on his shoulder, gently nudging him aside. Like the other Seals in the room, he could only stare as the boy knelt by Kamui's side.  
  
With a kind of quick, precise grace, Subaru pulled several cards marked with strange symbols from somewhere inside the folds of his immense jacket. One he slapped to the headboard of Kamui's bed with a decisive _thunk;_ one he pressed to the other boy's forehead, sweeping his sweat-tangled hair aside with expert, perfect ease. Both cards began to glow almost immediately with the same sort of gentle bluish-white of sunlight filtering through water, and Sorata recognized the symbol as the Sanskrit _om._   
  
_"On mani peme hon..."_  
  
Kamui's scarred hands clenched and unclenched; strangled little cries like a dying animal's broke loose from his throat. Subaru's focus held steady, and he kept the card he held firm against the other boy's forehead as he chanted.  
  
_"On mani peme hon; on mani peme hon..."_  
  
The atmosphere stayed heavy and tense for a heartbeat--two--and then, with a little sigh, Kamui's eyes fluttered shut. Peace settled over his sharp features, and then his head lolled back against the pillow as he sank back into dreamless sleep.  
  
The others stared.  
  
Subaru withdrew his hand slowly, brushing at Kamui's hair once before turning a bright smile to the Seals.  
  
"He'll be fine now."  
  
And then he fell.  
  
*`-,--  
  
Just a quick note: the chant Subaru uses is a Buddhist _mantra_ called the Heart Sutra; it's used to invite peace and divine help. It's a bit like the Lord's Prayer in Christianity. (And the most common English romanization you'll find, should you wish to look it up, is actually "Om mahni padme hum".) 


	5. Chapter Four

g**Author's Note:**  
Phew! And I sincerely mean that. From the very bottom of my heart. ^_~  
A thousand thanks to D for the loan of her Satsuki, and to TK for her Yuuto.  
Warnings this chapter for homoerotic tension and a single solitary act of gruesome violence.  
  
*`-,--  
  
"Yuuto, could you please pass down that extra cup?"  
  
"Certainly. Would anyone like a _daifuku?"_  
  
Sumeragi would never have guessed that the foreordained destroyers of humanity could act so civilised.  
  
Everything about this little event seemed almost ridiculously tasteful. The room they sat in now was well-lit, tidily furnished, perfectly untouched and isolated from the destruction outside. The tea service was porcelain, white with elegantly scripted proverbs running around the rim of each cup and saucer; the tea itself was green and fragrant, and feathery curls of steam sweetened the quiet air. Politeness seemed to pervade the room's atmosphere like lingering perfume--even the girl Satsuki, who had seemed almost sullen in the basement, met his eyes without hostility.  
  
It was slightly surreal.  
  
"Why, Yuuto, you didn't tell us you brought _daifuku."_ Kanoe's voice carried a note of mock-reproach, and the watercaster chuckled.  
  
"Well, they _were_ going to be a surprise, but now that we have a guest..." Yuuto's even blue gaze swept over his companions briefly; his smile didn't falter. "It seemed a little rude not to share."  
  
Sumeragi looked down into his teacup. It took him a moment to focus on the writing: _i no naka no kawazu taikai wo shirazu._ A frog in a well doesn't know the ocean.  
  
Reading with one eye, however, still made him a little dizzy, and he had to struggle not to slump over the edge of the table.   
  
"Sumeragi-san, are you all right?"  
  
The voice was Yuuto's; Satsuki gave them both an amused look over the black rims of her glasses.  
  
"Ah--fine." He tried for a professional, emotionless tone; it was easier to manage than he had thought. "Just... my eye."  
  
"Perhaps you should get a pair of reading glasses?"  
  
Sumeragi fidgeted. Why should a stranger--a former enemy--be so solicitous right now? Did he want something? Or was he merely teasing for the sake of stirring a blush, the way Seishirou-san--  
  
"Hn... _Nakitsura ni hachi,_" Satsuki murmured, turning her teacup against the saucer with a little scraping sound. A bee to a crying face, Sumeragi thought with a slight chill.  
  
"Now, Satsuki-chan, I won't have anything like a bad omen at my table." Kanoe's lipsticked mouth curved into a wide dark smile.   
  
"The saucer's a little better," Yuuto pointed out. _"Yabu hebi."_ Let sleeping snakes lie. "No serpents here, are there, Kanoe-san?"  
  
"I should hope not."  
  
"Better not to question it. Sometimes questions just muddy the natural flow of life."  
  
"You were born to be a poet, Yuuto."  
  
"Oh, not at all, Kanoe-san!" The blond man gave her a slightly rakish grin. "I'm just a simple government worker."  
  
"With a streak of poetry in you."  
  
"Character quirk," Satsuki put in.   
  
"As our dear system administrator here might put it, 'it's not a bug, it's a feature'," Yuuto said gleefully.   
  
Sumeragi's eye found a focus on the proverb curving across the rim of Kanoe's saucer. _Baka mo ichigei;_ even a fool has one talent.  
  
"Pass the _mochi,_" he murmured.  
  
The girl held out the plate to him--but before he could take it, a strong, baritone laugh sounded from the doorway.  
  
"This is quite a cheerful little party."  
  
"Kamui-san?"  
  
Sumeragi felt the muscles in his chest tighten painfully; he turned as slowly as he dared.  
  
The Dark Kamui was leaning casually in the doorway, playing with a cigarette lighter; with little hissing noises it clicked into life and died again, sounding very much like a grandfather clock having a seizure.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt. I need to borrow Sumeragi-san for a minute."  
  
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.   
  
The Sakurazukamori unfolded his long legs and stood, slowly, feeling the muscles in his calves shiver and stretch after a long half-hour of being sat-on.  
  
"Do hurry back, Sumeragi-kun," Kanoe smirked. "We'll keep the kettle on for you."  
  
He wondered, with a sinking feeling of dread, if he was going to need something stronger than tea when the Dark Kamui was finished with him.   
  
* * *  
  
"So Kanoe's told you everything?"  
  
Fuuma's voice, little more than a purr, came on a current of warmth against Sumeragi's ear. They were so close together, nearly chest to chest, that the wide curved walls of the darkened hallway couldn't pick up the soft breath of the younger man's voice and throw it into echoes.  
  
Sumeragi did not look at him, and he did not let himself get lost in the terrified crashing of his own heartbeat.  
  
"Yes," he murmured.  
  
"She's saved me some trouble, then."  
  
The Dark Kamui leaned in a little further, his cheek just barely brushing Sumeragi's temple. He had to struggle to keep a horrified shiver from spiking through his body; the invasion of his personal space was clawing at his mind, and he wondered if that was the very reason the young man had decided to back him against the wall into what could almost have been a loose embrace.  
  
He wanted to scream. He wanted to pray. He wanted to summon up the strength to reach out and _shove,_ or even just to make his hands crackle with newfound power, a sign that he was someone to be feared.  
  
Fuuma smelled like blood. And he remembered the same smell on a black trenchcoat, mingled with smoke, and it made him feel so weak and so afraid that he was absolutely sure his rattling pulse was echoing across half of Tokyo.   
  
"You're trembling, Sakurazukamori."  
  
"It's cold in here."  
  
A dry chuckle sounded against his ear, and then Fuuma pulled back completely.  
  
"There's something I need you to do."  
  
This time the walls did cast echoes, as the Dark Kamui's boots thumped against the floor; Sumeragi took another moment to clear his senses of that blood smell, and followed.  
  
The corridors were long and empty, partially darkened; as he followed Fuuma, he began to notice that the air was taking on an antiseptic smell, sharp and flowery to the point of cloying.  
  
A hospital smell.  
  
"Where are we going?" he managed to ask, as Fuuma stopped in front of a narrow grey door.  
  
The reply was delivered on a wicked little smile.  
  
"To meet the future."  
  
The door swung open, and the quiet within was nearly deafening; Sumeragi could hear the soft blips of medical equipment before his eye actually adjusted to the white sterility of the room.  
  
Dozens of wires--slenderer than the great nest of silver snakes in the basement--ran towards a single source, a very pale figure on a very pale bed. Fuuma said nothing but gestured for him to approach; the few steps from the doorway to the bed were a long and breathless journey.  
  
Hair so blond as to be nearly white fanned messily across the pillow; an oxygen mask was fitted neatly over the stranger's delicate features. Every now and then, one of his thin hands would twitch, and his eyelids would flicker.  
  
Sumeragi knelt by his side.  
  
"I know this man," he said softly.  
  
"Kazuki Kakyou, another of our _yumemi._" The shape of Fuuma's body heat towered beside him. "He loved someone close to you."  
  
The thought of Hokuto lanced through Sumeragi like hot iron pushing into his skin--and then a worse thought followed, ice after fire.  
  
_What does he want me to do to him?_  
  
"His wish is to join his beloved." Fuuma's voice was soft and completely emotionless. "You will enter his dreamscape; you're more than qualified to help him to what he wants."  
  
_I can't,_ he wanted to scream, _I don't kill, that was an accident, I'm not a murderer._  
  
He looked down at the pale bed and let his eye unfocus. Kakyou's hand moved slightly, an ivory blur on clean white.  
  
"It is his wish, and there will be no better time to grant it. The most peaceful death is a death of the mind--after that, the body just stops."  
  
Sumeragi wondered, with a nauseated shiver, how he knew that.  
  
"You'll do this for me, won't you, Sakurazukamori?"  
  
He closed his eyes. His younger self was silent, probably asleep--there was nothing to guide him, to help him say no. And, really... he pitied Kakyou for loving someone dead, for living without hope as he did now. He pitied him for being the same kind of fool as he had been, with the same kind of wish and the same naive stupidity that had kept them both alive for so long.   
  
"Of course," he said.  
  
* * *  
  
The dreamscape was wide and windy and empty.  
  
Kakyou sat alone, draped in a soft off-white kimono, staring out into the void. Occasionally a maple leaf would drift by, or he would whisper a _haiku_ to himself; aside from that, all was perfect stillness and perfect silence.  
  
A single sakura petal fluttered across the dreamscape, pink on black.  
  
"Kakyou?"  
  
The voice that cut the darkness was feminine, the perfect echo of one that had not sounded for nine years. It made the _yumemi_ jump slightly; visitors to such darkness were few and far between, especially by those not intimately acquainted with the future.  
  
"Kakyou, are you here?"  
  
The illusion was perfect, a labour of love and memory: the face full of life and sweetness, the figure slender and graceful, and growing, displaying more than hints of full-fledged beauty. It had taken only one vivid memory to create--it seemed that thought alone, combined with the darkening threads of his power, was enough to weave a pitch-perfect creation.  
  
The Sakurazukamori, cloaked in this illusion, gave every word her voice, and painted over each smile with one of hers; he wore his dead sister like a coat.  
  
And the _yumemi,_ eyes wide in wonder, approached him with an expression free from suspicion.  
  
"Hokuto?" he whispered. "Hokuto, why..."  
  
"I've come to take you away with me." Sumeragi held out his arms, slowly, feeling the fabric of the illusion stretch just a little.   
  
"It's time?" Kakyou's pale face lit with the beginning of a smile. "But... the other Angels... and your brother..."  
  
Sumeragi cut him off with a laugh; Hokuto's voice made it sweet, as it did for the lies that rolled off his tongue with startling ease. "Everything will be fine. After all, if things worked out for us, then there's hope for everyone--isn't there?"  
  
Kakyou looked at him curiously; for a moment he was afraid the illusion would fall through and the dreamgazer would ask him that terrible question _why, why are you doing this, why did you take this form, why do you torment me and yourself with this memory?_  
  
Sumeragi watched the dreamgazer's eyes--and it occurred to him that this illusion was probably no more than a transparent mask to Kakyou. The man _knew_ he was not his sister, his dreamscape was merciless in what it revealed, future and present alike--and yet he was willing to accept this illusion as a gesture.  
  
Because he'd loved her that damn much, the fool.  
  
And then the smile broke out wide and relieved across Kakyou's face, a smile of perfect love and deep relief. He stumbled the few steps left between them, and slowly folded the impostor into his embrace; Sumeragi was a little surprised at how warm he was, how thin the long line of his body seemed.  
  
"Thank you," Kakyou whispered.  
  
He struck.  
  
Muscle and bone gave way beneath his hands with a sickening sound; his fingers closed around a great hard knot of life, and grabbed it, and thrust it out on a tide of blood. The _yumemi_ clutched at his shoulder with weak fingers; a wet little sound escaped his throat, and the darkness began to fall in on itself as the mind that had created it shut down.  
  
Sumeragi let the illusion drop altogether, and visualised his physical body, slumped on the cot next to the frail man; like a diver kicking towards the surface of the sea he set his sight on the edge of the darkness and simply _went._  
  
Overpowering vertigo swept over him for a moment, and then he opened his eyes.  
  
There was blood everywhere.  
  
The white sheets were red, almost black in places; the soft hum and whine of the medical equipment was counterpointed by a steady inexorable _drip-drip-drip._  
  
Something slick and wet and warm pressed against his hand.   
  
He looked down and saw his hand shoved through the _yumemi's_ heart, his forearm immersed in muscle and blood and chips of bone almost up to the elbow; a terrible little shudder passed through Kakyou once before the stuff around his hand went completely still.  
  
Fuuma was holding his wrist as he would the hilt of a knife.   
  
The smell of blood filled his lungs.  
  
Trembling, too shocked to register the tidal wave of emotion roaring down at him, he jerked his hand back; the torn heart fell from his nerveless fingers. As he staggered to his feet the Dark Kamui only offered him a small smile, and his voice, when he spoke, was almost kind:  
  
"Get some fresh air."  
  
Sumeragi stumbled past wires and monitors and pure white walls to the pale grey door, and nearly tore it off its hinges trying to get out to the hallway; his knees gave out before he made it as far as the opposite wall, and he was violently ill right there. He retched hard, his forehead pressed into the slick dark floor, unable to breathe or force any sound out of his throat while his body emptied itself in response to his crime.   
  
And even before he could muster the strength to take that first breath, the adrenaline hit, so strongly that he had no opportunity to hate himself. 


	6. Chapter Five

**Author's Note:**  
  
Okay! And now, no more violence for at least another chapter. However, you do get warnings for language, a change of format, and a personality quirk which is neither supported nor refuted by canon. Not that, you know, anyone really cares. ^_~  
  
*`-,--  
  
Yuzuriha's eyes went wide; the soft haze of sleep immediately vanished from her expression.  
  
_"This_ is Subaru-san...?"  
  
Karen cradled the unconscious boy close to her; his head lolled gently into the crook of her arm.   
  
"He's, uh, under a pretty powerful spell," she said patiently. "Could you help me clear off the sofa?"  
  
"Y-yes, of course!"  
  
"Don't seem _fair,_" Sorata grumbled, padding through the doorway. "I mean, jeez, can't he do more than an hour of consciousness at a time?"  
  
"Sorata-san," Arashi said from somewhere in the corridor, "please keep your voice down. You'll wake Kamui."   
  
"What happened to his hair?" Yuzuriha asked, pushing a thick coffee-table book on American musical theatre off the arm of the sofa.  
  
"Well, he says the last thing he remembers is his sixteenth birthday, so I guess this is how he looked back then." Karen smiled briefly. "If you ask me, he was a pretty cute kid."  
  
"If I didn't know better, Karen-san, I'd say you were kinda sweet on 'im," Sorata teased.  
  
"Good thing you know better, then, isn't it? Ah, thanks, Yuzuriha-chan, now help me get him settled--"  
  
Carefully, the two Seals lowered him onto the sofa cushions; Subaru barely stirred, breathing slowly and evenly, as if he had sunk into the same deep sleep as Kamui.  
  
"What happened to him? Is he okay?"  
  
"He doesn't seem to be sick... Kamui was having a nightmare, and he put him right back to sleep with some kind of spell... but then he just sort of fell over." Karen smoothed his hair back from his forehead; he leaned ever so slightly into the touch, like a sleeping puppy responding to its mother's affectionate nuzzling. "I don't know much about magic, really, but he doesn't seem to be _hurt,_ so..."  
  
Yuzuriha perched on the arm of the sofa and peered down at the sleeping boy. "He looks so... different. Not, you know, happier, but... not so sad."  
  
"Yeah..." Sorata sauntered over and draped an arm across the girl's shoulders. "He used to get this look, before... like he was concentratin' on putting his hands in a fire, ya know? Or tryin' to hold on to a piece of ice."  
  
"I wonder what happened to him," Yuzuriha murmured.  
  
Subaru stirred.  
  
"Subaru-san! Oi, can you hear us?" Sorata leaned down so that he was almost nose-to-nose with the boy, and tapped his forehead gently with one finger. "Oi, c'mon, let's get back to the land of the living here... Suuuuubaru-saaaan..."  
  
Subaru's deep green eyes slid open.  
  
And he blushed.  
  
"U-uh--S-s-s-so sorry!" He tried to struggle into a sitting position, and his forehead collided painfully with Sorata's, sending both young men backwards--Subaru sprawled into the sofa cushions, while Sorata staggered back several steps and narrowly avoided falling on his rear.  
  
"Damn, you got a hard head, kid," he muttered. "I'm gonna have a bruise."  
  
"I'm _so_ sorry!" Subaru propped himself up on his elbows. "Really, I didn't mean--"  
  
"Shhhh!" Karen stroked his forehead once again, sweeping his unkempt bangs away from his eyes. "It'll be fine. Sorata-kun always bounces back, isn't that right?"  
  
"Oh, sure. I had a cousin who was a Superball."  
  
Subaru chuckled, and began to twist his gloved fingers together nervously. "If you insist... I'd offer to get you a bandaid, but I don't know where they are."  
  
"Hey, relax. I'll live. I'm a big boy, isn't that right?"  
  
Yuzuriha giggled, and Subaru looked up at her. "Oh--! I'm so sorry, I... have we met?"  
  
"Yes! I'm Nekoi Yuzuriha... another one of the, uh..." She glanced over at Sorata for some help.  
  
"...Dragons of Heaven?" Subaru's eyes widened, and then he bowed in his seat. "I'm sorry to have made you all worry about me, it was very selfish..."  
  
"I get the feelin' he apologizes every time it _rains,_" Sorata muttered in Yuzuriha's ear. She elbowed him hard by way of reply.  
  
"Subaru-san, what happened back there?" Karen asked gently.  
  
"Oh, that..." The boy smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't careful. Whenever an _onmyouji_ casts a spell, it returns to the caster. Usually there's a way to lessen its effects, but I didn't really have time, so--I went to sleep, just like Kamui."  
  
The boy paused as Yuzuriha's _inugami,_ small and grey and blinking sleepily, trotted over to the sofa.  
  
"Oh, what a sweet puppy!" Subaru's expression instantly became one of sheer delight as he held out a black-gloved hand to the little dog. "Whose is he?"  
  
Yuzuriha stifled a faint gasp.  
  
"I see he remembers you," Karen smiled as the _inugami_ started licking at Subaru's fingers. The boy giggled and moved his hand to scratch Inuki's ears affectionately.  
  
"What a good boy," he crooned, his smile broad and completely genuine. _"Good_ boy. What's his name?"  
  
"Inuki."  
  
"He's such a sweetheart..."  
  
Sorata hid a laugh behind his hand, and was promptly elbowed in the ribs again.  
  
"Subaru-san," Yuzuriha said hesitantly, brushing sleep-rumpled hair out of her eyes. "Can I ask you something?"  
  
"Anything, Nekoi-san."  
  
"Do you remember how to make a _kekkai?"_  
  
The room went quiet.  
  
Karen and Sorata glanced at each other. Both Seals knew full well what the question meant: if this really _was_ Subaru, then no matter how drastically altered he might be, he would still have the ability to create a _kekkai--_it was the only real distinguishing mark of a Dragon of Heaven, and thus the only foolproof way of establishing his identity.   
  
Subaru sat up slowly, and then got to his feet. With a look of intense concentration he brought his gloved hands together, staring down at his palms.  
  
"Yes," he said softly.  
  
A faint green glow began to flicker in the space just above his hands, and then it expanded, taking on the shape of a five-pointed star, pulsating like a heart. He opened his hands a little, as if releasing sand or water to fall to the ground, and the star grew, sending a ripple of power spiking through the room. As the green energy raced outwards, spreading away from his slim form, a soft keening sound filled the air: the magic fairly crackled as it wove itself together and pushed out, humming with the promise of protection...  
  
"Su... Subaru?"  
  
The _kekkai_ retreated into his hands and vanished the moment Subaru turned around.  
  
Kamui, drenched in sweat and still tangled in a sheet, was leaning heavily on the doorframe, watching him intensely.   
  
"Kamui-san--"  
  
"Hey, now, you shouldn't be out of bed." Sorata took a step forward, but Kamui waved him off weakly.  
  
"Subaru... is that... is it you?"  
  
"Kamui-san," Yuzuriha ventured, "you don't look so good--"  
  
"Yes, Kamui-san, it's me... but I..."  
  
Kamui's violet eyes went wide, and he stumbled across the threshold towards Subaru, letting out a choked noise as he crossed the few steps between them.  
  
* * *  
  
"Sorry I kind of... fell on you, Subaru."  
  
Kamui curled his scarred hands around his teacup and watched Inuki pad across the surface of the kitchen table. After pulling himself out of sleep, he'd had several confusing briefings on the "new" Subaru and what had happened, whereupon the other Seals had decided to hold a private conference in the living room while both young men adjusted to the situation.   
  
"It's okay. But you shouldn't have been out of bed, not after that nightmare--you looked like you had a fever or something."   
  
"I don't get sick," Kamui said, with a small, bitter smile.  
  
"Still. You're human. And important to all of us."  
  
Kamui looked up at his friend. He could barely believe this was the same person he'd seen only a day or two before, crying bitterly over the broken body of an assassin--he had to really _look_ to see the resemblance. Yes, the voice was the same, albeit higher and more boyish; the facial structure was just a little rounder, but definitely the same.  
  
But the thing that was truly stunning was how everything about him seemed _healed._   
  
His eyes were bright, unblinded, alert as they had always been but no longer suspicious. Although he looked shorter and, if at all possible, thinner than he had before the change, he looked far healthier; he smiled easily, spoke politely, and had answered Kamui's cautious "do you want a cigarette" with a resounding "_ugh!_"  
  
All in all, he looked worlds better--even, Kamui thought with a slight blush, a bit more attractive.  
  
The only thing that struck him as being slightly _off_ was the gloves.   
  
"Subaru, why do you wear those?"  
  
The boy blinked, and looked down at his hands. "I... I don't remember. I've worn them for so many years... I think I was in an accident, and I might have been hurt pretty badly. I can't take these off unless I'm completely alone, so... usually I just don't bother."   
  
_He doesn't know about the stars,_ Kamui thought, amazed. _Of course he wouldn't, if he doesn't remember--  
  
If he doesn't remember the Sakurazukamori._  
  
"It's okay, though," Subaru went on cheerfully. "I mean, they haven't stopped me from doing things like spellcasting or playing the violin."  
  
Kamui blinked.  
  
"You play the violin?"  
  
"I haven't played for you?"  
  
"No, never."  
  
Inuki whined, trying to dip his nose into Subaru's teacup; the boy picked him up gently by the scruff of his neck and deposited him on the floor.  
  
"That's odd..." He chuckled and shook his head. "There's so much I don't remember... you'll have to forgive me if I ask about things like that."  
  
"It's okay."  
  
_I just hope I have answers,_ Kamui added mentally.   
  
* * *  
  
Arashi shook her head firmly.  
  
"I think our only option is to go see Princess Hinoto," she repeated. "She's the only one who can tell us for certain what's wrong with him."  
  
"I dunno, babe. I mean, yeah, she can see what's going on and all, but..."  
  
Sorata, completely ignoring the furious blush that rose to Arashi's cheeks on being referred to as "babe", plowed right ahead with his train of thought. "I think somebody oughta trail the Dragons of Earth. I mean, I have this weird feeling they're behind what's happened to Subaru-san, seeing as they were the ones who brought him back here."  
  
"Why, do you think they're having him watched?" Karen looked a little surprised.  
  
"Could be. Whatever reason they had for bringin' him back, it's not just 'cause we missed our good buddy and they have a soft spot for reunion scenes. And smart as the Princess is, I dunno if she can give us the why of things along with the what."  
  
"Shadowing a Dragon of Earth--any of them--would be ridiculously risky," Arashi shot back.  
  
"Then I'll do it real quiet-like. They don't call it 'shadowin'' for nothin', babe."  
  
"What should we tell Subaru-san?" Seiichiro put in, sensing an imminent fit of bad temper from the other end of the coffee table.   
  
"About what?"  
  
"Well--should we tell him he's changed, or just act as if we've always known him in this form?"  
  
There was a moment of tense silence.  
  
Then Yuzuriha spoke, timidly.  
  
"I think," she said, her voice soft with uncertainty, "we shouldn't worry him. Whatever he's forgotten, all the terrible things he's been through--why should he worry about things he doesn't remember?"  
  
Karen chuckled, an almost wistful little sound.  
  
"It's the hardest thing in the world to be happy," she said quietly. "Maybe it would be... useful to see how he manages it."  
  
Silence descended again. None of the Seals looked at each other.  
  
Subaru's voice, bright with cheerfulness, drifted through the kitchen door.  
  
"No, _down,_ boy! That's it. Oh, yes, you _are_ a good dog, aren't you? You're such a good dog."  
  
Karen stood.  
  
"But I think that getting the Princess' opinion couldn't hurt."   
  
* * *  
  
"Princess Hinoto?"  
  
The dreamgazer caught the ripple of sound moving towards her across the dream-plane; slowly she lifted her head in a well-rehearsed, graceful gesture.  
  
"Yes, Souhi?"  
  
"Kamui and the... the head of the Sumeragi family are here."   
  
Inwardly, Hinoto smiled; doubtless the little incident at the Bridge had gone perfectly according to her plan, and now Kamui would haul his broken friend before her, demanding to know why he remained withdrawn, begging for her help...  
  
"Send them in, Souhi."  
  
She turned towards the doorway and carefully tuned her othersenses to register the newcomers.  
  
Kamui's presence was the same complicated net of strength and confusion, fear and hope--but the other Seal...  
  
The other Seal was _not what he had been._  
  
Where she should have sensed years of heartache, bitterness, longing beyond reason, there was a strange sort of bright optimism. The long jagged scars across his psyche were gone; no memory of any substantial hurt lingered.  
  
Her blind eyes went wide in genuine surprise.  
  
"Subaru-san," she murmured.  
  
"Princess."  
  
She couldn't hear the voice, not with her useless physical ears, but she knew the sound was different. She knew the light tenor had gone up half an octave, that the hard edge of forced civility had disappeared from his tone.  
  
What sort of dreams had she missed, that this came as a surprise to her now?  
  
Kamui's voice nudged at her consciousness--he was _willing_ the words towards her, instead of speaking them aloud. "We think he's under a spell--he doesn't remember us, his eye is healed. It's like half his life got... erased."  
  
Powerful magic indeed. Hinoto turned her attention to the young clanhead; little ripples of respect flowed towards her. Her othersenses brought back a brief portrait of this new boy-Subaru: his presence was taut with politeness and the earnest desire to learn. She guessed that, if she had been able to actually see him, she would have seen that his head was bowed slightly and his hands were primly folded in his lap.  
  
His hands. A spike of familiar magic caught her attention: the Sakurazukamori's marks were still branded into his presence, though not as strongly as they had been while the assassin was still living. Their energy seemed to be muted by something else; cautiously she nudged at his aura, and a slight shock came back to her.   
  
She faintly remembered dreaming of the young clanhead years before--the dream had been of an awkward boy, no more than thirteen, practising sword-form to clear his mind the night before he took on the title of clan leader. That boy had worn black gloves in her vision, gloves with a powerful charm sewn inside to keep the predator's mark from prying minds.  
  
"Come here, please, Subaru-san," she said, making sure to keep her "voice" as smooth and sweet as possible.  
  
She sensed the boy move closer to her; with some effort, she lifted a hand, shaking it free of the heavy stiff silk of her sleeve.   
  
"Kneel."  
  
He did. She reached up and out into the sensory void that was the real world--apparently he sensed what she was trying to do, for he took her small hand in both of his, smooth warm leather pressing against her skin.  
  
The boy gently guided her hand to rest on his cheek; for a moment her small fingers registered nothing more than that his skin was wonderfully soft.  
  
Then the visions hit her, and she gasped.  
  



	7. Chapter Six

**Author's Note:**  
Oddness and Lady Macbeth syndrome abound, plus another unsupported/unrefuted character quirk. ^_~  
*`-,--  
  
Kakyou's blood seemed to stick to his hand.  
  
He'd changed his shirt, his coat, washed his hand until the skin was raw and red--and still he could feel slippery liquid between his fingers, clotting under his fingernails. The smell seemed to coat him like a second skin, tangy and coppery and sweet with decay. Sumeragi leaned back against the bathroom wall, fighting down dry-heaves. Beyond the bathroom door, his apartment was dark; he could faintly hear rain whispering against the one wide glass window in the adjacent room.   
  
He closed his eyes.  
  
_There were small warm hands on his face, and wide red eyes staring sightlessly into his. With some surprise, he realised that her eyelashes were the same pure white as her long hair.  
  
"Oh," was all the Princess said.  
  
Was she all right? He reached up to cover one of her tiny hands with his own; the black leather of his own glove made the edge of his vision a blurred yin-yang.  
  
The red darkness of her eyes shifted and flickered; her lips moved as if forming a silent prayer.  
  
_ No. This was enough.  
  
He pulled his consciousness away from his younger self and padded out of the bathroom. The darkness rushed at his one good eye--for a moment, he felt entirely blind, and the feeling was disconcerting. Sumeragi counted his steps until his hands found thick fabric; he tugged the curtain aside a little at a time, letting the watery grey light creep in by degrees.  
  
Fuuma was standing on his balcony, smoking a cigarette.   
  
Sumeragi fought back a growl, even as his heart sank under a ripple of fear. The Dark Kamui gave him a perversely cheerful grin, and turned enough so that he could see the brown lump of a wrapped package tucked under his arm. For a moment he considered just pushing the curtain shut again and going back into the bathroom to put his hand under the water--but Fuuma tapped the package, grinning, and curiosity tugged insistently and shamefully at his mind.  
  
He unlocked the plate-glass door and slid it back.  
  
Chill air slapped against his cheeks; cold, stinging raindrops pattered into his hair and the fabric of his turtleneck.  
  
"You did very well, Sakurazukamori." The Dark Kamui exhaled a long streamer of smoke. "But you left before I could give you this..." He indicated the package under his arm with a casual gesture.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Something you should have. Take it."  
  
Sumeragi fully expected to feel the contours of a human head under the brown paper as he took it; to his surprise it was relatively flat, and the thing inside flopped gently as he turned it over in his hands.  
  
"Don't be a stranger," Fuuma added, and then hoisted himself up and over the handrail to leap away into the rain.  
  
Water trickled down the back of Sumeragi's neck, snaking into his shirt to soak his skin with cold.  
  
He stepped inside and closed the door, then crossed the room and dropped the package on the foot of his bed. For a moment he simply stared at it: the thing lay in a motionless, compact brown heap, like the body of a dead dog.  
  
Then he sat down beside it and, with a single decisive motion, ripped back the paper.  
  
The thing inside slithered and bunched up--it was definitely fabric--and as Sumeragi peeled the damp brown paper away, his eye involuntarily traced the long line of a fold in the cloth...   
  
Of a sleeve.  
  
He dropped the package with a startled cry.  
  
_No,_ his fevered brain insisted. _This isn't. He didn't... he **couldn't have.**_  
  
Cautiously, he took a handful of the soft, heavy fabric and pulled.   
  
The thing was very long and very black, and as he lifted it its shape began to become apparent. What at first looked like no more than dark haphazard folds rearranged themselves into lapels, sleeves, a collar, planes and angles whose shapes he already knew well...  
  
It was Seishirou's coat.  
  
The hole in the back where his hand had gone through was completely mended; the fabric bore none of the stiffness of dried blood. It was as immaculate as it had been that day they'd met again at the Nakano Sun Plaza; Sumeragi was too dazed to wonder who could have taken the time to clean and sew it.   
  
A wild impulse struck him, and he pushed his face into the coat.   
  
He breathed in, and the Sakurazukamori filled his lungs, layer after dark layer of complicated beauty. He smelled rain, earth, cigarettes, a hint of cologne and body heat, the faintest touch of sakura and green tea. No one else could possibly have built up a smell this rich--and there was no combination of elements as heady as this one anywhere in the world.  
  
He slid one hand into the sleeve, and hesitantly pulled up the fabric until the coat's shoulder covered his shoulder; then, with a little more confidence, slid into the other sleeve and tugged it up. The dark material bunched up briefly, and then settled; the coat fit him well, if loosely.  
  
In a way, he realised, all that was left of the Sakurazukamori belonged to him--the hunter's marks on his hands, his missing eye so like Seishirou's, the black trenchcoat slung in shadowy elegance around his thin body. Hopeless love rose to stop his breath for a moment: he wished, desperately, that he could just stand up, face the mirror, and find Seishirou waiting for him on the other side of the silvered glass.  
  
Sumeragi realised, with a little shock of pain, that he hadn't seen Seishirou out of this coat once he came back to Tokyo.   
  
And he hadn't noticed, when he cradled the dying man in his arms, how very soft it was.  
  
He began to rock back and forth, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that the darkness overwhelmed anything he might have seen through Subaru's eyes.  
  
Sumeragi wanted to cry. He wanted to bury his face deeper in the lining of this coat and just scream out his grief, but no sound or tears came--only a cold-edged numbness, creeping up from beneath his shoulders to wrap itself around his throat.   
  
He rocked, pulling the coat tighter around himself, until the emptiness in his chest exhausted him and he fell asleep.   
  
* * *  
  
The Sakurazukamori dreamed.  
  
He hung in mid-air, and floating slowly across his line of vision was a snowfall of pink petals, bright against the darkness of his dreamscape. They swirled around him without sound or scent--just little soft slashes of light on endless velvet dark.  
  
He held out his hand, and the slow whirlwind stopped entirely. Silence rang in his ears as he reached forward to take one of the petals; the tiny slip of sakura was like silk against his fingertips when he touched it.  
  
For a moment the image stayed perfectly still, that flower petal in his hand and a thousand others hanging in the space around him like a giant cage.  
  
And then it changed.  
  
The sakura petal darkened, and its shape shifted; he blinked, and it was a drop of blood, warm and unnaturally bright on his fingertip. Sumeragi looked up, and the petals around him were drawing themselves up into little red spheres, beads of blood in every direction as far as he could see.  
  
Then they fell.  
  
The red rain drove straight at him, soaking him in its slickness and smell, coating his tongue with a strong metallic taste when he opened his mouth to cry out. It was all over him, it was _part of him,_ dissolving through his skin and into his own veins, turning his body to liquid and pulling him down into the endless tide, so that he was both swept ahead by it and master of it, the waves roaring wherever his frightened thoughts took them...  
  
He woke with a start, still wrapped in the dead man's coat.  
  
And, all at once, he knew what the dream had meant.  
  
* * *  
  
Even in the rain, the Tree was resplendent, green and black against the muted greys that painted the rest of Ueno Park. Its shape, dark and wide and gnarled with age, dominated Sumeragi's field of vision; as he came closer, he felt a faint prickle at the back of his mind--the magic here lay thick in the air between the raindrops, and it tugged him forward like a shyly insistent child.   
  
As he drew closer, one hesitant step at a time, the park around him became greyer and greyer, fading into darkness as the sense of _power_ around him grew stronger. The Tree itself changed, too, its green leaves slowly curling into tight buds which unfolded again as pink flowers, as magnificently bright as they would have been in the warm height of spring.   
  
The foam of blossoms swayed, ever so slightly, and a voice--no, a chorus of voices--flooded Sumeragi's understanding.  
  
_Welcome, Sakurazukamori._  
  
He thrust his hands into the trenchcoat pockets, and after a moment's hesitation, addressed the thing aloud.  
  
"Did you send me that dream?"  
  
Something akin to a light chuckle shivered across his mind.   
  
_You would have come sooner or later, regardless of whether the dream was of My creation._  
  
He hesitated, but the thing reached out to him again, reaching into his consciousness with a warmth so unexpected he couldn't help but move closer.  
  
_When you come to Me, part of your soul is already destroyed. _  
  
Sumeragi felt, at the distant edges of his power, the bright laughing Subaru he had once been.  
  
_When you inherit Me, part of you already cries out for the blood you know you will spill._  
  
One of the voices was a little louder than the rest, a little deeper. Sumeragi thought of Seishirou's weight against his shoulder, the last soft breath against his ear...  
  
_It does not matter what drives you._  
  
...and nine years before that, a single moment frozen in time: Seishirou bending over him to share some wicked little confidence, the warm sigh of a smile stirring his hair and making his heart pound...  
  
_Every one of My guardians binds himself to Me long before ever the title falls on his shoulders._  
  
...he had believed so strongly, had wanted nothing more than to bury himself in the darkness of Seishirou's coat, his ears deaf to everything but their twin heartbeats...  
  
_Every one of My guardians loses something precious._   
  
There was a wave of numbing comfort--not unlike the dark taste of each day's first cigarette, using poison to kill his awareness of his body's latent protests. He was engulfed in sympathy, in whispered promises of revenge, in the fierce call of something _needing_ him...  
  
_Sumeragi Subaru. **I know.** I know you hurt. I know you feel as if you will never stop bleeding inside. But, My Sumeragi, My child--bring Me souls and I will wrap you in their warmth. I will take the flow of love within them and pour it over you.   
  
I will want you.  
  
I will stay with you.  
  
I will stop the hurt._  
  
Sakura petals caressed his cheek, threaded through his hair, wafted scent against his forehead.  
  
Sumeragi linked his slender arms around one of the tree's solid, smooth branches; a cluster of flowers leaned forward to stroke his face.  
  
He wept then.  
  
* * *   
  
This time, when he sank into grief-exhausted sleep, the darkness blotted out any dreams; when he woke, he needed only a moment to get his bearings before retreating from the Tree's dark sphere of illusion. The little wash of feeling that nudged at his mind as he left was like a fleeting goodbye kiss; when it passed, he noticed with some shock that his hand felt clean again, that the blood smell no longer teased the edges of his senses.   
  
He walked--he didn't care where, really, as long as it was _away_--and hardly knew where he was going until he looked up and found himself within sight of the Metropolitan Government Building.  
  
_It won't hurt to get to know your colleagues, Sumeragi-kun. _  
  
The sudden, itching _need_ for a cigarette washed over him, and he fumbled in his pocket for one.  
  
Had anyone seen him, blood-stained and struggling to stay upright, as he left the building? He didn't want to have to fight off security guards or frightened government interns... still, if they were used to the Dark Kamui's comings and goings, the building's other inhabitants might simply have conditioned themselves to ignore the handful of people whose business only took place below the ground level.  
  
A little too late, he remembered he hadn't put his cigarettes and lighter into the pocket of Seishirou's coat. His fingers curled around nothing but pocket lint just as he stopped short of the Government Building's front steps.  
  
"Shit," he muttered aloud.  
  
"Something wrong, Sumeragi-san?"  
  
Alarm spiked through him, and out of sheer reflex he began to gather energy as he turned. A single clear shot would buy him enough time to run--  
  
It was Yuuto.  
  
"I didn't mean to startle you." The watercaster lifted his hands, spreading his fingers as if holding out a sign: _Look, I'm harmless._ "Just thought I'd say hello, and... well, you look as if you've lost something."  
  
His smile was a gentleman's, all concern and kindness, and it caught Sumeragi off-guard. He had no reason to believe it was sincere--after all, only a few days before, a meeting like this might have resulted in a fight to the death--but at the same time, the light touch of interest in his tone was a little disarming. He'd gotten used to Kamui's fretting over him; the boy needed stability, and had seemed to find some reassurance in seeing him at least pretend to act content. But this almost teasing friendliness...  
  
Only one other person had ever been so casually kind to him, and those kindnesses had always been dangerously empty, sharp-edged beneath the politeness.  
  
"Sumeragi-san?"  
  
He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it.  
  
"I just... forgot my cigarettes, is all."  
  
"Ah, that's right... you're a smoker." For a moment he looked as if he were about to admonish Sumeragi with the familiar litany of _Smoking will destroy your health_--and then, much to the Sakurazukamori's surprise, he pulled a small dark pack from the pocket of his trenchcoat.  
  
"Would you like one?"  
  
Sumeragi blinked. "I... didn't know you smoked."  
  
"I don't, usually. Just every so often, when I feel like it, or when I've had a very long day at work." He ran a hand through his hair with a playfully sheepish smile. "I don't recommend desk jobs, really."  
  
Sumeragi groped for an appropriate response, trying to cover up his sudden unease. Why was this banter making him so damn nervous? "I've never had one."  
  
"Ah... lucky you. Here, sit down."  
  
With a wonderfully fluid ease, Yuuto brushed past him to sit on one of the long stone steps, then gestured at the space next to him. Sumeragi hesitated, then sat; a light breeze began to kick up as he did so, and he caught the smell of rain-washed stone, clean and uncomplicated.  
  
Yuuto took two cigarettes from the pack, and offered one out politely; Sumeragi blinked at it for a moment before realising--   
  
"It's... black."  
  
"They're clove cigarettes." The watercaster set his cigarette between his lips and then dug around in his trouser pocket. "Part clove, and part tobacco... not quite as strong as the 'real thing', but good. Annnd... aha, I _knew_ I had matches in here."  
  
There was a dry rattling sound somewhere on his blind side; Sumeragi turned to face him just as the match hissed into life. Quickly, without thinking, he lifted his own cigarette to his mouth and leaned in, nosing towards the flame.  
  
The first mouthful of smoke came as a surprise.  
  
It tasted like chocolate first and foremost--bitter chocolate, dark and almost too sweet. As he held the smoke on his tongue the taste mellowed, just a little, until it was like honey and cinnamon and tea, all held together by the familiar dusty taste of tobacco.  
  
He exhaled very, very slowly.  
  
"Good, isn't it?" Yuuto's smile broadened just a bit as he took a drag off of his own cigarette. "Sweet."  
  
"Yeah..." He took the thing carefully between two fingers and then ran his tongue across his lower lip thoughtfully. His mind was full of sakura and blood and rain, full of the strange little details that had haunted him all day. Seishirou's coat loose and soft around his shoulders, the Tree's odd version of an embrace, Yuuto's smile, the layers of sweet taste in his mouth.   
  
He closed his eyes.  
  
_"Subaru-san, the Princess--"  
  
"Is she all right? Is there anything we can do?"  
  
He glanced up quickly, and there were two young women--twins, in elaborate ceremonial robes--standing on the threshold. As his gaze swept towards them, he caught a brief sweep of motion: one girl had been clutching the other's wrist, and had let go when she knew their visitors would see._  
  
Sumeragi opened his eyes and looked down at the flat, long curve that was the back of his hand.  
  
"Sweet," he echoed. 


	8. Chapter Seven

tabula rasa: seven Gah, this one took much too long... >_ My apologies if the "magic talk" in Hinoto's dream isn't strictly correct; my understanding of necromancy is shaky at best, so I've tried to combine what I know about the way magic works in X with the little bits I know about other magic traditions.  
Oh yes. And there's another nasty bit of graphic violence.  
*`-,--  
  
"Kamui, we need some water..."  
  
Subaru cradled the _yumemi_ against his chest; the Princess' breathing was shallow, and her tiny hands curled limply into her sleeves. A fine sheen of sweat glistened over the elaborate sigil on her forehead; little almost-whimpers broke loose from her throat.  
  
"Please--!" The young clanhead looked up at Kamui, his eyes wide with concern. "She just--I don't know what's wrong--"  
  
"I'll get her some water," one of the twins said, and hastily backed out of the room.  
  
Kamui knelt next to his friend, being careful to keep clear of the hair and silk that pooled around them on the floor. He'd seen the Princess get lost in her visions before, but the past half-hour had been frighteningly intense: the dreamgazer's mental murmurs had progressed to screaming, and her entire tiny frame shook with the force of the dreams until, with a strangled, muted half-cry--the first _real_ sound he'd ever heard from her locked throat--she collapsed against Subaru's slim shoulder.  
  
"Shh, shh," Subaru soothed, one gloved hand moving slowly through her hair. "Please, Princess, don't try to move... just relax. Relax."  
  
"Subaru-san..." She raised a hand to clutch at the lapel of his jacket.  
  
"Shhh. You're going to be all right."  
  
There was a moment of awkward silence before the Princess' remaining bodyguard spoke up.  
  
"Sumeragi-san, is she--is she hurt?"  
  
"I don't think so. And, please, Subaru will do..." He glanced up at her, and Kamui followed his line of vision; now, as he always was, Kamui found himself impressed by how ornate her costume was. True, she and her sister didn't wear nearly as many layers of heavy, embroidered silk as the _yumemi,_ but the brilliant red fabric of her outfit was painted with just as many designs as Hinoto's, charms and sayings and little mysteries weaving across her chest and sleeves in beautiful writing he couldn't understand.  
  
"You protect the Princess?" Subaru asked pleasantly. The girl bowed in confirmation, somewhat formally; tendrils of brown hair swung down over her shoulders.  
  
"I do. My twin sister and I have been her bodyguards for several years."  
  
"Ah, I thought you were twins." His smile was small, but sincere. "It must be nice to work with your sister."  
  
She looked startled, briefly--Kamui couldn't blame her; he'd never heard any of the Seals or even Saiki ask either of the twins about themselves, while the Princess and her visions were so close at hand--and then gave him an awkward half-smile.  
  
"It is nice, yes. Souhi and I are very close."  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Hien."  
  
"Souhi..." Hinoto stirred, her sightless eyes turning up toward Subaru's face. "Where is Souhi?"  
  
"She's getting you some water, Princess... please, stay still."  
  
The dreamgazer let out a long breath, and drooped so that her forehead rested against the hollow of Subaru's shoulder. Long coils of snow-bright hair spilled over his slender arm, shifting to ivory and cream when she moved.  
  
"I dreamed..."  
  
"I came as fast as I could!" Hien's twin, breathless and flushed, stumbled across the threshold in a blaze of blue, a glass clutched in her hand. "Princess, are you all right?"  
  
"I'll... be fine, thank you..."  
  
Subaru stroked her back gently. "Try to sit up, Princess. Take deep breaths."  
  
Kamui took the glass from Souhi as carefully as he could, lifting it to her lips as the other boy gave him an encouraging nod. The _yumemi_ sipped slowly, her features slackening into an expression of absolute exhaustion; she looked like nothing if not a tired child.  
  
"I dreamed," she repeated, her mental tone dazed.  
  
"Sh. It's over now. You're safe."  
  
Kamui tentatively reached over and laid his hand on Subaru's shoulder; the other boy looked up, startled.  
  
"Thanks," he managed.  
  
Subaru's only reply was a brief little smile as the _yumemi_ curled into his arms.  
  
* * *  
  
On the dreamscape, her scream had been a hundred times louder than the choked cry her muted human throat had managed.  
  
She had seen the Bridge in ruins, the pale damp colours of dawn, the long ribbon of smoke from a falling cigarette. The memory dissolved around her as it passed; she recognised this as part of the magic that held the boy Subaru's psyche together--if he knew his own origins, the Wish on which his existence was built would disintegrate back into unfulfilled yearning, and he himself would disappear. He had been created to be blank innocence, with no past; if he learned about the past he had been created to contradict, his trusting gentleness would crumble, and once again Sumeragi Subaru the Dragon of Heaven would die.  
  
As the Dark Kamui brought his hand down to seal the spell, she leaned forward to watch carefully. Her seer's vision allowed her to look straight into the nature of the magic, laying bare to her the secret that had enabled the Angel to give this Wish a physical form.  
  
She had been told, by _onmyouji_ lesser in power and rank than the Sumeragi clanhead, that certain magic traditions had long held a very firm set of beliefs about gaining control over people. The most persistent idea they had spoken of was the idea that any part of a human body--hair, skin, fingernails--could, if correctly used, become the key to controlling the welfare of the entire body. The most powerful thing a spellcaster could hope to obtain was, invariably and without question, blood.  
  
The foundation of the spell the Dark Kamui had cast was much the same, except that it was stronger, simpler--the purest form of a principle.  
  
When the Sunshine 60 _kekkai_ had fallen, the Dark Kamui had come away from the encounter with not only an intimate knowledge of the clanhead's Wish, but his hands had been soaked with the man's blood. The dark smears of what had once been Subaru's eye brought the clanhead into the sphere of his power; though blood by itself could have created any number of devastating spells, when its magic came in contact with the Wish curled bright and hard around Subaru's heart, it became merely a catalyst.  
  
In short, the Wish provided the power--and the blood gave it form.  
  
Fascinating, when she considered it.  
  
This, she knew, would take very delicate wording to explain properly, and she still wasn't quite sure how to use it to her advantage. Perhaps if she simply _undid_ the new Seal--  
  
The vision shifted.  
  
Irritated, she glanced up to see her other self--the self, like this new boy-Subaru, so blithely naive--standing before her. Tears poured down the reflection's cheeks, and her unnaturally bright eyes were full of pleading.  
  
"What?" Hinoto asked, irked by the image's boldness.  
  
The reflection lifted a doll-like hand and pointed.  
  
Hinoto turned, and the darkness around her rippled into a familiar shape--she saw, as she had seen so many times before, her own body limp and broken at Kamui's feet. The boy looked up at her with infinitely sad eyes, his fingers tightening around the hilt of the Sacred Sword he held.  
  
And then he dropped it.  
  
"I've changed," he whispered, in a voice not his own. As she stared, his entire appearance fragmented like a shattered mirror; the outline of his leathery wings re-formed itself into a paler, smoother shape, and bit by bit the picture reassembled until Kamui stood taller and darker and blind in one eye.  
  
"You changed me," the Sakurazukamori said.  
  
He raised an accusing, blood-stained hand, and the pentagram burned red all the way through his palm. Hinoto glanced frantically at the space in the vision where her body had been sprawled a moment before: now hers was not the only corpse at his feet, merely one of a dozen corpses whose eyes stared sightlessly at their killer...  
  
He raised his hand to strike, and she screamed.  
  
*`-,--  
  
It was another half-hour before a thoroughly exhausted Hinoto, still visibly shaken by whatever she had seen in her dreams, finally gave up on the hope of recovering in the presence of the two Seals and politely begged them to excuse her until the next day; though Kamui still had a nagging, uneasy feeling about the whole thing, Subaru didn't say a word until they were on their way back to the mansion. Even when he did speak, his voice was subdued and thoughtful.  
  
"I can't imagine being blind," he said.  
  
Kamui thought of the star-shaped _kekkai_ dissolving around the Sunshine 60 building, and tried hard not to shudder.  
  
"Me neither."  
  
There was an awkward moment of quiet. Overhead, thick dark clouds hung across the sky; the air was heavy with the promise of rain.  
  
It was Subaru who spoke next, his voice a little thin with attempted good cheer.  
  
"I've really never played the violin for you?"  
  
The question made Kamui blink. "No. I didn't even know you played, until you mentioned it."  
  
"Then when we get home, I'll play you something." He hesitated, then added, "Well, if you want me to. I don't want to sound like a show-off or anything."  
  
"It's fine. I'd like to hear you play... I don't think anyone else plays an instrument, so it'll be good to have some music in the house."  
  
Subaru smiled over at him, and then Kamui was suddenly struck with a thought.  
  
"Hey, Subaru... are you sure you brought it with you to Tokyo?"  
  
"I'm pretty sure, yes. It should be under my bed... I like to have it there; it feels like a good-luck charm."  
  
Kamui wondered if the Subaru he had known had grown out of that superstition... he hoped not, which surprised him a little.  
  
They walked on in relative silence; when they reached the door of the mansion, Sorata and Yuzuriha were sitting on the front steps, apparently engaged in a game of cat's cradle.  
  
"No, see, you're s'posed to take these two threads here and put 'em--here, lemme show you," Sorata said, attempting to take the string out of Yuzuriha's hands.  
  
"This is so complicated. How do you win?"  
  
"Um. You don't, you just kinda--Kamui, hey, what's up? How was Her Highness?"  
  
"We have to go back and see her tomorrow."  
  
"That bad, huh? Man, I wouldn't wanna live in her head."  
  
Yuzuriha beamed at them. "Karen-san said we should wait for you guys out here. She and Arashi-san are cleaning."  
  
"I bet you anything they're makin' Aoki-san watch a chick flick," Sorata smirked.  
  
"You're so _mean,_ Sorata-san!"  
  
Subaru cleared his throat a little shyly. "Ah... Is it okay if we go inside, or should we wait until they ask us back in?"  
  
"Nah, they should be done by now, unless they decided to wax the ceilings or somethin'." Sorata stood, and then, with a broad grin, threw one arm around Subaru's shoulders and one arm around Kamui's.  
  
Subaru's green eyes went wide, and he made a startled, embarrassed little noise that sounded very much like "mneegh".  
  
"C'mon, let's go see how cute the ladies of the house look in aprons!"  
  
"Hey, what about me?" Yuzuriha looked indignant.  
  
"Aw, you've got a puppy. That's like two aprons and a big floofy hair bow."  
  
She pouted, but only briefly.  
  
As Sorata led the other boys inside, the "puppy" came bouncing joyfully towards them, barking at Subaru with happy abandon. Though still clearly embarrassed, the young Seal smiled as Inuki bounced himself up to eye level and began licking his face.  
  
"Hey!" He laughed, and, without breaking out of Sorata's loose grip on his shoulders, reached out to take the _inugami_ in both gloved hands and bury his face in the soft grey fur. "Mmm, you missed us, didn't you? What a _good_ boy."  
  
"Wow, he really likes you, doesn't he, Subaru-san?" Sorata's tone was one of amusement.  
  
"It's probably because I smell like something good to him. Probably my gloves, they're leather--"  
  
"Subaru-san, he's a spirit dog. He doesn't eat."  
  
The clanhead blushed, but offered up a timid half-smile. "Oh... right."  
  
"Hello?" Karen peeked around the living-room door. "You're back already?"  
  
"We have to go back tomorrow," Kamui said. "The Princess wasn't feeling well."  
  
"That's too bad... oh well, at least we got some work done." She stepped into the room fully--there was no apron over her red-and-black dress, which provoked a disappointed frown from Sorata--and waved cheerfully at the little group. "We've just been tidying up a little. Might make everyone a late lunch."  
  
"Karen-san?" Arashi's voice, somewhere a little further down the hallway, was muffled. "Karen-san, I found something--"  
  
"I'll be there in a minute--actually, Subaru-san, could you go get tea started?"  
  
"Of course." He handed the _inugami_ back to Yuzuriha with a bright smile and headed for the kitchen.  
  
Almost as soon as he was out of earshot, Karen leaned in and spoke softly against Kamui's ear. "We've been moving his old clothes and things out of his room, and trying to get rid of the cigarette smell. You might want to take him shopping later."  
  
Kamui blinked rapidly, surprised. "Where did you put--"  
  
"It's all in boxes, in Arashi-san's room. Although she found something under the bed that we didn't think should go in a--"  
  
"His violin?"  
  
It was Karen's turn to look startled. "How did you know?"  
  
From somewhere in the kitchen, the sound of light humming drifted by, along with the soft scraping of cups and tins being removed from cabinets.  
  
"Maybe I should explain a few things," Kamui said.  
  
* * *  
  
The Princess slept, curled into her snowy robes, but just outside her chamber the twins stayed awake.  
  
"Souhi?"  
  
The blue-garbed girl blinked, as if she had been lost in thought, and looked up at her twin. "Hmm?"  
  
"Tell me my fortune again."  
  
Souhi smiled. "But Hien, you've heard it a hundred times."  
  
"I know, but..." With a fingertip, Hien traced one of the characters on her sleeve, the smooth complicated character for "silver". "Just this once?"  
  
Her sister smiled, and then reached back to tug the tie out of her hair. Loose waves of brown shimmered down around her shoulders, rich oak-wood silk that crimped and swept back softly from her ears. She was not very pretty, but now she looked comfortable, and that was the look her twin liked the most.  
  
"All right, then," she murmured. "Where should I start?"  
  
"Start with the things that have already come true." Hien leaned against the heavy sliding door, unable to contain a smile of her own. They'd both had their fortunes read by a stargazer when they were about ten, before they'd begun training to serve the Princess, and by now each sister knew the other's fortune as thoroughly as the familiar rhythms of a fairy-tale. They used it like a fairy-tale, too--it was something reassuring in the face of stressful events, or a little bonus on the calmest of days.  
  
"Hm. Well, let's see. You were going to have a hand in the future of Tokyo, and meet a princess, and guide the blind through darkness." Souhi took a lock of her own brown hair between two fingers and stroked it with her thumb, chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Now, the things that haven't come true..."  
  
"What about Prince Charming?"  
  
She laughed, a rich little sound. "Oh yes. You're going to meet a man in black, who will change your life. So romantic."  
  
"Think he'll be handsome?"  
  
"Of course." She turned a little, and her smile broadened. "Only the best for my baby sister."  
  
Hien made an indignant noise. "I'm only twelve minutes younger."  
  
"All right, all right... but still. Only the best."  
  
What happened next happened so quickly that Hien barely had time to react.  
  
First there was a shadow behind her sister; then the soft tap of a footstep on the hard floorboards. The shadow blurred into a shape, a human form; suddenly she sensed a current of incoming power--  
  
And then Souhi was nearly lifted off her feet as a long-fingered hand thrust straight through her chest from behind.  
  
Time stopped.  
  
From behind the doors of the Princess' chamber, a mental scream tore loose, wild with desperation and disbelief; much more terrible was the soft cracking of bone giving way as Souhi's slender frame convulsed.  
  
There was an eternity of nothing before the hand slowly drew back, and the dying bodyguard fell forward into her sister's arms. Souhi's eyes went wide, and then all too suddenly they were dim, a tide of blood rushing past her lips in the instant before she went limp. Clotted darkness spattered thick and sticky against her sister's red outfit, and then it began to grow lighter, pinker, until it wasn't blood that flowed from the wound but sakura petals, floating on a silent current of magic.  
  
Hien looked up, her eyes wide and nearly blind with horror. The killer who towered before her wore his black coat like a second skin, and his blind eye glittered coldly in the half-light.  
  
There was no smile on his face. But then, she had rarely ever seen the head of the Sumeragi clan smile. 


	9. Chapter Eight

Gah gah gah. Gah gah? Gah gah _gah_ gah gah gah!  
...and warning for unorthodox pairing and creepy-ass imagery.  
*`-,--  
  
"Arashi, babe, come sit by me!"  
  
The priestess, though only mildly irritated, shot Sorata a glare as he patted the space next to him on the sofa.  
  
"Sorata-san, how many times do I--"  
  
"Aw, c'mon, I promise to be nice." His tone softened and his smile became more earnest as he leaned forward. "I promise I won't do anything outta line. Really. Not a thing. Jus' sit down next to me, that's all I'm askin' for."  
  
Somewhere behind her, Yuzuriha giggled, and she could almost _hear_ the younger girl give Subaru a conspiratorial nudge. The hint of "cheerleading" made Arashi want to grit her teeth and find a small animal to kick--but it was Sorata's sweet, pleading smile that sent blood rushing to her cheeks.  
  
"Hn," she managed, and sat down on the sofa, feeling somewhat ridiculous.  
  
"Aw, that's much better." He grinned broadly. "Now was that so bad?"  
  
Fortunately, Subaru seemed to be aware that any more teasing might result in Sorata being dealt a good smack, and spoke up.  
  
"Ah, if you'll give me another minute to get this tuned before Kamui-san and the others come back..."  
  
"No problem," Sorata said. "We'll be glad to hear ya play. I mean, if you can manage somethin' tougher'n 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star', you're a damn sight better'n the rest of us."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure that's not true!" Subaru rubbed the back of his neck, a self-conscious blush staining his cheeks. "I--I mean--it just takes practice, really--"  
  
"Yeah, practice and the ability to not suck. Trust me, that's somethin' I really wish I had when it comes to music. 'S the only reason I don't do romantic moonlight serenades."  
  
Some higher power must have been smiling on Sorata that day to protect him from Arashi's temper: Seiichiro, carrying a can of cheap iced coffee, stepped out of the kitchen just as the priestess was opening her mouth to say something sharp.  
  
"So when will we get to hear you play, Subaru-san?" he asked pleasantly.  
  
"As soon as Karen-san and Kamui-san get here." Subaru knelt and laid the violin case on the floor, carefully undoing the clasps that held it closed. "I'm afraid you'll have to sit through my tuning, though."  
  
"That's all right." Seiichiro smiled and pushed his glasses up a little further on his nose. "You know, my wife wants our daughter to start violin lessons."  
  
"Really? How old is she?"  
  
"Six. Ah, actually, I have a picture--"  
  
"A picture of what, now?"  
  
Karen, adjusting a clip in her tousled strawberry-blond hair, sidled across the threshold with Kamui in tow as the windmaster began to rummage in his trouser pockets.  
  
"Yuka-chan, my daughter... hold on just a moment... ah, I think this is it."  
  
He tugged a small plastic sleeve from his pocket, the kind of thin, soft folder made to hold credit cards, and flipped it open. It was almost overstuffed with pictures, most of them showing a beaming, brown-haired little girl; one, in particular, caught Seiichiro's eye as Subaru stood up with his violin in hand, and he smiled as he slid it from the sleeve and handed it to the young _onmyouji._  
  
"There." His voice carried more than a hint of pride. "That was taken on her last birthday."  
  
Subaru's features softened a little in a delighted smile. "Oh, she has a wonderful smile!"  
  
"She's lovely," Karen agreed, peering over the boy's shoulder.  
  
"Hey, share," Sorata piped up from the couch. With a little laugh, the older Seal obliged, stepping past Subaru to hand him the photograph. Arashi, grateful for a distraction from her irritation, leaned over a little to look at it as the young clanhead began to coax quiet, faintly musical sounds from the violin.  
  
"Aw... she's a cutie. She's definitely got her daddy's eyes, huh, Aoki-san?"  
  
"I hope not--glasses aren't much fun," Seiichiro chuckled.  
  
"'Zat so... well, she's gonna be a heartbreaker when she grows up. Mebbe not as pretty as some--" he winked at Arashi conspiratorially-- "but then, I'm real biased."  
  
Arashi, more startled and embarrassed than angry, had to turn her head to hide a blush.  
  
"I see." The windmaster sounded amused. "Yuzuriha-chan, you can look too, if you like."  
  
"Already looking," she chirped, snatching the photo out of Sorata's hand with a mischevious smile. "And, wah, she's so cute! Can I be her adopted big sister?"  
  
"Well, I--"  
  
And then a single, clear, sweetly ringing note cut through the conversation.   
  
Everyone turned, or looked up; the _onmyouji's_ face was just beginning to light with a look of satisfaction. The instrument and its owner seemed to be in perfect harmony as the note continued--just a heartbeat longer--and when Subaru let his gloved bow hand drop slowly to his side, the smile that curved his lips was one of shy pride.  
  
"Wow," Sorata said. "Damn. Um. Mind givin' us a little more of the same?"  
  
"Certainly."  
  
He hesitated for a moment, as if he were trying to remember something that just barely eluded him--and then his eyes slid shut, and the smile returned as he lifted his bow again.  
  
And he played.  
  
The first few notes, languid and soft, were strikingly clear; though his self-consciousness still showed plainly on his face, it was even plainer that he knew his instrument and music intimately. And the music itself, lilting and faintly sad, spun out into the room with a wonderful warmth as if it were wrapping the entire group up in a single slow heartbeat...  
  
The phone rang.  
  
Instantly the magic was gone; Subaru's bow skidded across the strings of the violin with a hideous screech as his concentration broke. The result sounded a lot like fingernails being raked across a blackboard; everyone cringed at once, and Sorata swore quietly.  
  
The phone jangled a second time. The young _onmyouji,_ looking deeply embarrassed, moved towards the kitchen to answer it, but Seiichiro cut him off with a vague gesture.  
  
"I'll get it. Don't worry."  
  
"Sorry," Subaru murmured, fidgeting. Karen gave him an encouraging smile and gestured for him to come stand near her.  
  
"It's okay, Subaru-san. I thought you did very well."  
  
Arashi, still having trouble shaking off the music's warm spell, tried to concentrate on Seiichiro's end of the phone conversation. It wasn't easy with Yuzuriha and Kamui beginning to join Karen in reassuring Subaru they'd liked the performance, but if she concentrated hard enough on shutting out the noise, it fell away neatly and left her with a sharp focus.  
  
"Hello, this is the Imonoyama residence... No. No, this is Aoki Seiichi--yes, I am one of them. May I ask--what? You've--yes, as soon as we can--do you know how--? All right, then, we'll be over as soon as possible... yes... thank you."  
  
"Hey, you."  
  
The priestess startled; Sorata was grinning over at her.  
  
"Wh... what?"  
  
"Nothin'. Just wanted to know what you were thinking... you looked like you had somethin' real serious on your mind." He winked before adding, "You look right pretty when you get that look, y'know that?"  
  
...well, that was unexpected. She blinked, hoping she didn't look like she'd been caught off-guard, and tried to think of something appropriate to say--  
  
"Everyone... we have to head over to the Diet Building."  
  
Seiichiro, leaning against the doorframe on the kitchen threshold, looked unusually pale. His expression was almost unreadable, except for a faint sadness which was just beginning to steal across his features.  
  
"Aoki-san? What's up?"   
  
The older Seal removed his glasses, slowly, closing his eyes.  
  
"It's Princess Hinoto," he murmured. "She's dead."  
  
* * *  
  
The best thing about clove cigarettes--at least, the best thing about them at this very moment--was that the smoke was strong enough to cover the smell of blood.  
  
Sumeragi was faintly surprised at how easy it had been for him to get into the Diet Building. He'd only had to mention his name, and the nervous young man by the elevator had stepped aside with a respectful bow. No one had given him a second glance as he left. The adrenaline rush this time had been incredible, too--intense, almost feverish, but so brief that his hands were trembling by the time he'd come back to the Government Building.  
  
Though he'd washed his hands once below ground in the Diet Building, the oily, slippery feel of blood still clung faintly to his skin. This time he knew it wouldn't fade unless he returned to the Tree, but... he couldn't go back to Ueno. Something about the prospect of hearing that chorus of voices again made his skin crawl. He needed to be in a warm room with another human being. He needed to somehow trick himself into forgetting he'd killed three people in the space of five hours.  
  
And, much to his surprise, he found his thoughts straying to one particular person, and to the taste of bitter chocolate and cinnamon on his tongue.  
  
Yuuto had been sitting by himself, nursing a clove, in the room where they'd had tea earlier. One cup and its saucer still sat in the centre of the table--though now the green liquid was no longer _in_ the cup but _above_ it, weaving intricate geometric patterns in mid-air as if moving to the strains of some music Sumeragi couldn't hear.  
  
He stood in the doorway a moment or two, just watching, before Yuuto noticed his presence. The watercaster flashed him a smile, offering out the cigarette as the tea cascaded back into its cup.  
  
"Finished with your errand, Sumeragi-san?" he asked pleasantly.  
  
"Yeah... thanks."  
  
He took the cigarette and inhaled deeply. Despite the fact that the room was relatively warm, he felt as if there were a cold breath of air constantly following him, chilling his skin--probably the result of standing in the rain earlier, or his encounter with the Tree, or both.  
  
"...ah, Shiyu-san! Just in the nick of time. Won't you join us?"  
  
The ever-so-slightly hollow ring in Yuuto's tone made Sumeragi turn, and he took in the broad tall shadow of a man standing in the doorway. He was vaguely certain he'd seen this person somewhere before, but couldn't quite place the square line of his jaw or the wide span of his shoulders.  
  
"Ah." The syllable was almost a rumble. "I don't smoke, Kigai-san."  
  
"Neither do I," Yuuto replied gleefully. "Join us anyway."  
  
"No thanks."  
  
And with that, he was gone.  
  
Yuuto tsk'ed and pulled the pack out of his jacket pocket, tapping out another slim black cigarette. "Sorry. He's not very social."  
  
"He's another one of the--?"  
  
"Yes. Have a seat, Sumeragi-san, this is a very comfortable couch."  
  
He had to fight not to blush--which was frustrating, considering he didn't know _why_ the embarrassment rose in his throat--but reminded himself that Yuuto was in effect a colleague and thus deserved a polite response.  
  
"Thanks," he murmured around his cigarette, and sat down next to him. God, it was getting chilly in this damn room. He hadn't remembered it being this cold this morning... or maybe he was coming down with something? He didn't get sick often, so he tended to forget what it felt like when he did--  
  
"Sumeragi-san?"  
  
He blinked; Yuuto was watching him with a spark of concern in his blue eyes.  
  
"Are you all right? You look cold."  
  
Sumeragi tried to come up with a witty response about his inherited coat, about the air conditioning, about _something._ He tried to think of an intelligent way to brush off the other man's words, to show that he could be just as pleasantly frustrating.  
  
He tried, but what he managed after a moment of silence was, "I do?"  
  
"You're shivering."  
  
_I'm also an idiot,_ he scolded himself, as he shifted to pull the coat tighter around his shoulders. "Oh, I'm just... a little chilly, is all. I don't think this coat has a thick enough lining for winter."  
  
Yuuto fingered the dark-green scarf around his neck, toying with the fringe almost idly. "There are ways to compensate for that, you know."  
  
_...compensate?_ The Sakurazukamori couldn't help but frown in confusion--what the hell was Yuuto getting at?  
  
"Here."  
  
And in one fluid motion, he lifted the scarf from his own shoulders and looped it around Sumeragi's neck.  
  
Somewhere between his forehead and his collarbone, Sumeragi felt something shudder and give way.  
  
He was so like Seishirou. So very like him, teasing laughter and beautiful eyes and all; even the way his tousled sandy hair spilled across his forehead reminded him of the assassin. But Seishirou had never gotten quite this close--he would have remembered a jolt like the one that threatened to make the muscles of his shoulder twitch and shudder when the watercaster's hand grazed his lapel. Sumeragi had no word for it, and didn't want one: all he knew was that Yuuto was close to him, breath just brushing the edge of his jawline, intoxicating warmth and that damn beautiful empty smile that taunted him like the glittering edge of a knife...  
  
"Better?" Yuuto murmured, and Sumeragi felt heat stinging his cheeks.  
  
"Much," he said weakly, and hoped the other man couldn't tell it was a lie.  
  
* * *  
  
The _yumemi,_ in death, looked like a handful of shattered porcelain.  
  
Her _kimono_ was spread wide around her, great wide wings of stained and torn silk; there was blood in her white hair and under her fingernails, and one of her perfect small hands lay half covering the jagged hole where her heart should have been.  
  
It was all Kamui could do to keep his knees from giving out.  
  
He couldn't get used to the physical reality of death. True, by now he was intimately familiar with the slaughterhouse blood smell, the conclusive stillness that covered corpses like a veil, the various brown and black and red tones of blood. But the fact that a now-lifeless bunch of limbs had once held a psyche, a voice, a _person,_ and that that person had gone somewhere he couldn't follow--_that,_ he could never get used to. It was unfair; it made him want to cry and retch and rail at whatever Heaven had chosen him.  
  
But then, maybe that was why he'd been chosen in the first place.  
  
"Kamui-san?"  
  
The voice that pulled him back from his thoughts was Seiichiro's; the younger Seal was dismayed to see how pale and bereaved he looked.  
  
"Um. Yeah?"  
  
"Subaru-san found one of the Princess' bodyguards."  
  
"One?"  
  
Wordlessly Seiichiro glanced at the floor, his eyes tracing a path towards the _yumemi's_ corpse. Kamui followed his gaze, curious; he saw that one of the tiny golden bells had been ripped off the shoulder of Hinoto's costume, and now lay silent and glinting on the floor inside a messy semicircle of sakura petals.  
  
Kamui's eyes widened.  
  
"But... how could...?"  
  
"Seiichiro-san! Kamui-san! Come quick!"  
  
Subaru--who had insisted on coming with them to help--had discovered Hien, staring sightlessly into space with dull eyes, curled into a ball in the very furthest corner of the antechamber. Her once-vibrant costume was stained almost the colour of mahogany with blood, and for a terrible moment it looked like she had suffered the same fate as Hinoto--and then a single tear slid down her cheek, and her lips stirred faintly with a short breath.  
  
"Did you find Souhi-san?" Subaru asked, glancing up at them.  
  
"No... what's happened to--?"  
  
"She's locked inside her own heart now," the _onmyouji_ murmured. "I can try to bring her back, to tell us what happened... but it'll be difficult."  
  
Kamui tried not to shiver, but nodded his consent. "Do what you need to. We'll be right here."  
  
He smiled his gratitude, then knelt beside Hien and placed a gloved hand on her forehead. The stream of Sanskrit that fell from his lips, soft and vaguely musical, soon trailed off into a murmur as his body relaxed into unconsciousness.  
  
* * *  
  
The dreamscape was a ruin.  
  
It looked like it might once have been something like a traditional family house or a _dojo;_ now, where Subaru imagined he might once have been able to walk uninterrupted through a wide, spacious hall, he had to pick his way over fallen beams, splintered floorboards, shreds of strong thin paper from the wrecked walls. Dark and rusty stains spattered the floor underfoot; overhead was a mass of black and starless sky.   
  
"Hien-san?" he called, softly.  
  
At the other end of the hallway, the shadows blurred slightly. One shape, tall and long and very black, began to move slowly along the wall towards him. With a little effort of will he forced himself to climb over the collapsed form of what had once been a doorframe--carefully, as something had already eaten away holes in the once-solid wood of the threshold floorboards--and haltingly picked his way towards the shape.  
  
As he got closer, the shape became a silhouette, and the silhouette became a human, a tall man who stopped walking as Subaru drew near. The stranger, dressed in an elegant black coat a little too big for him, was strikingly beautiful in a very sad way--though his right eye was milky-white (probably blind, Subaru thought), his left eye was vibrant green, full of the sort of coldness people develop when they have been alone too long to envision being anything else.  
  
The young _onmyouji_ swallowed hard and tried to ignore the feeling that he knew the stranger's face.  
  
"Excuse me--"  
  
If the older man had any idea what Subaru wanted, he didn't let on. He merely lifted one hand--long and graceful and covered in dark blood--and laid his palm against a panel of wallpaper, dragging it slowly down the clean, pale surface. An ugly smear of red split the pale-yellow panel like an open wound.  
  
"I'll kill you, you know," he murmured.  
  
A quiet sob came from somewhere behind him. Subaru looked past the stranger to see Hien lying on her side, much the same way as she had been when he'd found her, her eyes fixed in terror on the long streak of blood that now cut across the wall.  
  
"Hien-san!"  
  
Her eyes found a focus on him, briefly, and she whimpered; something moved Subaru to turn around. The man in black had been replaced by Souhi, who smiled at him for just a brief instant before an explosion of blood and pale sakura petals tore her chest nearly in half. He flinched as she began to tumble forward, heading straight for him--and then in a flurry of soft pink, she was simply gone, leaving nothing behind but a chilly breath of air and a snowfall of petals.  
  
"I should have noticed," Hien murmured, her voice broken and hoarse. "It's my fault."  
  
Subaru saw a slant of light open up somewhere at the other end of the hall, saw two children with the same face playing and laughing and learning together.  
  
"We've never been apart. We've protected each other all our lives. We were planning..."  
  
He saw the twins, slightly older, reading. He saw one braiding the other's hair. He saw one confide excitedly to the other about the prospect of a first kiss, a beautiful cousin who had come to teach them how to sense magic in people and buildings and objects.  
  
"...we were planning to go home... for our birthday... because it's our twentieth..."  
  
He saw a doll-like hand come up to touch one twin's face, heard a childlike voice murmuring heartfelt words of welcome.  
  
Somehow he tore his eyes away and knelt at Hien's side.  
  
"Hien-san, listen to me."  
  
She looked up, and her brown eyes were overbright with despair; her fingers worked slowly, curling and uncurling around a few bloody sakura petals.  
  
And Subaru hugged her, suddenly, tightly.  
  
"If you want to stay here, that's fine," he whispered. "I know I can't understand your pain, not even a little bit. And I know that part of you may never stop mourning her, because she meant so much to you. But, Hien-san..."  
  
Her slender frame trembled with what might have been the beginning of a sob. Subaru brought a gloved hand up to stroke her hair, soothingly, slowly.  
  
"Hien-san, she was your sister. She loved you. She would have wanted you to be happy, to live your life. And... that'll take time. I understand. The others will, too. But she wouldn't have wanted you to spend your life grieving over her... not when you can honour her memory with your smile."  
  
There was something warm on his neck--tears. Hien's hands came up to grip his jacket as a choked noise shook free of her throat.  
  
"I--I--miss her--so much--"  
  
"She's not gone," he murmured. "Not as long as you still love her."  
  
"I don't know what I'll do..."  
  
"I know. You don't have to. But I'll do everything I can to help you--and so will Kamui-san, and Karen-san, and all of the others."  
  
Around them, the dreamscape began to grow greyer, the ruins blurring slightly. Subaru nearly startled, but then realised that Hien's sobs were slowing. She was slipping from her catatonia into a natural sleep, and when she woke from that, the hallway would be only a memory of a bad dream.  
  
"Are you tired?" he whispered.  
  
There was a very long pause. The air around them was heavy, warm, fuzzing out everything at the edges. A steady sound--the slow rasp of her breathing--washed in slow rhythm in his ears as she relaxed into his shoulder.  
  
"Yes."  
  
He woke to find Hien curled up against his knees, nestling towards his warmth as if he were the last safe thing in the world.  
  
* * *  
  
Sumeragi didn't stay in the building long, choosing instead to go back to his apartment and try to find a little comfort in sleep. Though strange jolts of almost-electric energy swept through him when he thought of his borrowed scarf (now buried in the folds of his coat on the chair by the door), several deep breaths easily banished those thoughts, and he found his thoughts running in comfortably empty circles after a little while.  
  
He was almost asleep when it happened.  
  
The Tree's presence caught him up, swept him into warmth and comfort like a mother cradling her child.  
  
_My Sumeragi. My child, My guardian. Let Me show you how I reward My faithful._  
  
He tried to come up with some sort of respose, but he was so heavy with the rush of affection, so tired...  
  
_You give Me the power of the dead... and I can show you the things you most wish for. I will weave the love they felt in their lives into your dreams, into the things you have wanted for so long._  
  
Sumeragi felt like he was falling, slowly, drifting into shadow on a current of warm air and feathers. _I don't understand._  
  
_Let Me show you._  
  
And the dream took hold in the next breath he drew.  
  
* * *  
  
First there was darkness, and then there was Him.  
  
The other details filtered through slowly: the click of Sumeragi's lighter, the dark-brown taste of cigarette smoke in his mouth. Rainbow Bridge loomed like the walls of some immense white prison around him.  
  
"It's not your wish to kill me, is it."  
  
Sumeragi closed his eyes. He could feel Seishirou's warmth just behind him, could nearly feel the warm breath stirring the hairs at the back of his neck.  
  
"Look at me."  
  
He couldn't disobey. Fighting the little flashes of pain that struck the insides of his lungs every time he breathed, he looked up into Seishirou's face--and, as he always was, found himself amazed at the man's sheer predatory beauty.  
  
And then, quite unexpectedly, Seishirou's hand--still dripping with someone else's lifeblood--was on his cheek. The gesture should have made him flinch, should have made him scream, but the warmth was too tantalizing to resist...  
  
"Why, Subaru-kun?" The assassin's voice was softer than usual. "I thought you hated me."  
  
Sumeragi felt pain lance briefly through his chest; tears stung his eyes. "I... I tried to."  
  
"You should have."  
  
"I know, all right? I _know._ It's just--I couldn't stop--"  
  
"Couldn't stop what?"  
  
He had to take a deep breath before continuing, his voice nearly a whisper.  
  
"Loving you."  
  
Seishirou's hand slipped from his cheek and travelled down the curve of his throat, coming to rest just over his heart.  
  
And then he smiled.  
  
"You were wrong," he said softly. "I haven't killed in weeks."  
  
And, sure enough, the blood--no more than an illusion--was already fading from Seishirou's long fingers.  
  
The tears, miraculously, didn't spill over; though the vision in his good eye blurred fiercely for a moment, the wild joy that broke free beneath his collarbone took over his entire being.  
  
Seishirou smiled again, and this smile--like the first--was genuine.  
  
"Your heart is pounding, Subaru-kun," he murmured. "But then I suppose some things never change."  
  
And then he leaned forward, and before Sumeragi could fully process what was happening, the older man's lips were pushed lightly against his. There was a brief moment of shock--or was it fire, turning his veins and very thoughts to hot gold?--and then his eyes slipped shut, and the kiss became deeper, endless time-defying layers of perfect delicious sensation...  
  
When he woke, there were tears on his face, but when the revelation that he had only been dreaming took hold, he wept late into the night. 


	10. Sidestory: A

sidestory: a The Sakura folded him in sleep when he had cried himself back into exhaustion, its chorus of voices murmuring comfort in his head.  
  
_My poor child. My poor, poor baby. It's been so long since one of My guardians grieved as you do._  
  
Sumeragi half wished he could tell it to just leave him alone, let him sleep, but he couldn't bring himself to push away the warmth. Somewhere in the course of nine years of relative isolation, he'd come to feel that every room he slept in was too damn cold--even in the middle of summer, even with the heat turned up dangerously high. Now, with a friendly and soothing presence in his room after so long... it was like a drug, almost, warming the air around him, making him feel comfortable enough to take deep breaths. His heart beat slower. He relaxed.  
  
The dreams came in little flashes at first, no more than passing moments from lives he wished he could have led.  
  
He saw himself smiling, surrounded by friends at some kind of social gathering--a birthday celebration?--having his hair ruffled, being teased about when he was going to get himself a boyfriend already, getting pounced-on and tickled.  
  
He saw himself back at the clan compound in Kyoto, walking through the gardens in his _shikifuku,_ with a small, delicate-boned woman beside him. She smiled up at him, and he saw silver in her black hair, a flash of affection in her green eyes... _he saw his mother._ His mother, happy to see him, _alive._  
  
The moments began to open up now, to grow longer and more intricately detailed. It was as if dozens of his fleeting daydreams were suddenly given form; the illusion was so thick, so brilliant with life, that it seemed as if he were living out one existence after the other.  
  
In some of them, he saved Hokuto from death. In some he was fast enough to keep Fuuma from taking his eye, strong enough to make sure the Sunshine 60 building stood intact. But in almost all of them, Seishirou was with him--sometimes bending to brush a kiss against his eyelid, sometimes cradling him close as he slumped, dying, against the assassin's chest. He dreamed of telling Seishirou how he felt, of Seishirou's hands on his face. He dreamed of hearing those last words spoken not against his ear but murmured low into his parted lips, purred darkly against the skin of his neck, making his pulse pound--  
  
And then, quite suddenly, the flow of images slowed to a single pale-tinted moment. He still lay in his own narrow bed, curled onto his side, and he could feel warm sunlight slanting across his bare shoulderblades.  
  
Sunlight and... something else. Warmer. He turned over, blinking sleepily.  
  
Seishirou lay asleep beside him, lips slightly parted, tangled hair spilling over his forehead. Early-morning sunlight highlighted the muscles in his arms, the long curve of his bare neck, the angle of his jaw. There was something almost like a smile playing across his lips--sated, exhausted, utterly relaxed. For a long, wonderful few heartbeats, he wasn't an assassin at all.  
  
Sumeragi shifted a little, and felt the sheets slide against his bare skin. The pillow that pressed against his cheek smelled more strongly of cigarettes now, cigarettes and sweat and hints of the rich scent that had been nearly woven into the Sakurazukamori's coat.  
  
The revelation dawned in a rush, making his cheeks burn--the man who lay beside him was his lover. Alive, asleep, _his._  
  
He reached out, his palm nearly aching with the need to trace over the warm slope of Seishirou's throat.  
  
And he woke.  
  
His bed was empty. His room was cold, though pale early-morning light had begun to slant across the empty mattress beside him.  
  
The Tree's presence was a very faint echo in his mind.  
  
_My child, My only. I will give you what you desire if you bring Me what I need. Tonight was only one night; there will be more._  
  
Sumeragi took a very deep breath, and sat up slowly, brushing his matted hair out of his eyes.  
  
_If you bring Me what I need..._  
  
He wondered, as he started for the shower, what kind of dreams the Tree had given Seishirou.  
  
He didn't have to wonder whether or not he would kill again that day.  
  
  
*`-,--  
  
back * home * **forward (sidestory b)** * ** forward**


	11. Chapter Nine

tabula rasa: nine @_@ No, really, I promise I'll finish this one by New Year's.  
There may be a little fast-and-loose treatment of canon in this chapter--as far as I can tell, Kamui and Kusanagi do not meet before X16, so I've treated their meeting in this chapter as their first.  
Warnings this chapter are for three "S"s: swearing, Satsuki, and sex. That's right, this chapter contains a not-very-explicit sex scene (yaoi, and if you can't guess the pairing I ain't telling ya); it's intense but not graphic, both guys are of legal age, and no goats were harmed in the writing of it. So no more content warnings for you.  
Many thousands of thanks to Apapazukamori, Skimmer, Shoi, MD, and TK-chan (for that one nice, painful little detail towards the end ^~).  
  
*`-,--  
  
"Nataku, please step back."  
  
Gathering the white folds of its scarf into the crook of one arm, it moved back a few paces as the cables on the floor began to twitch and hum with power. BEAST was tensing for the hunt, almost rumbling with anticipation as Satsuki's slight body settled into the "cockpit", her heartbeat amplified to a soft, resonant _thud-thud-thud_ as it synchronized with the rhythm of incoming data streams.  
  
"What is Satsuki doing?" Nataku asked.  
  
Her voice came back metallic but powerfully loud. "Locating our next strike. And giving Sumeragi-san a wakeup call."  
  
The Angel narrowed its eyes a little--it didn't like Satsuki's voice; the sound was harsh and cold. The words themselves, however, were important.  
  
"Who is Sumeragi-san?"  
  
"The Sakurazukamori. Another Dragon of Earth."  
  
"He is still asleep?"  
  
"Apparently." Now she sounded faintly amused. "Our next strike is in Ginza, but it looks like we're going to need a little help."  
  
"And that is why we're calling Sumeragi-san."  
  
"Speak of the devil," someone called out cheerfully; BEAST's humming picked up a little in pitch. Yuuto was standing in the doorway, Sumeragi's black-clad figure hovering like a solid shadow just behind him.  
  
"Did you want us for something, Satsuki-chan?" the watercaster asked, grinning.  
  
"The _kekkai_ at Ginza," she replied, and there was a faint sub-aural hum beneath the metallic ring of her voice, as if the sound were about to spill over into deafening feedback. "It has to come down."  
  
"Well, they _all_ do, Satsuki-chan, but today's a Sunday."  
  
There was a moment of silence. Nataku blinked, perplexed; the Sakurazukamori stiffened visibly.  
  
"You wouldn't deny a man his day off, would you?" Yuuto nearly pouted, addressing the machine as if it were Satsuki herself. He removed his hands from his trenchcoat pockets and held them up, palms opento the air. "We've worked _so_ hard all week, and the weather's just _awful_ out there..."  
  
"Kigai-san," Sumeragi said softly, sounding embarrassed. Nataku wondered if there was some significance to the way his cheeks grew pink. The enormous machine nearly whined around them, like some great predatory animal straining at a leash, waiting for the moment when something would give and it could spring for the blood it craved--  
  
--and then one of the massive cooling fans in its hard drive roared into life, and several soft clicks echoed through the room. Satsuki was disconnecting.  
  
"We'll wait for orders from _Kamui-san,"_ she said, her tone utterly flat. "Or for word from Kanoe-san. There's no point in striking before we have to."  
  
"You're an angel of mercy, Satsuki-chan."  
  
She let out a short, awkward chuckle, and Sumeragi smiled faintly; Nataku took its own confusion at the situation as its cue to leave and find Papa.  
  
It would have to ask Papa what mercy and the destruction of _kekkai_ had to do with each other. Not to mentionwhat that word "mercy" actually meant.  
  
* * *  
  
"So, what shall we do with our day off?"  
  
Sumeragi stopped, that _we_ freezing his muscles except for his suddenly pounding heart. His companion seemed not to notice for a minute, moving down the corridor with brisk steps; maybe, Sumeragi thought for a wild moment, Yuuto would just forget what he'd said, keep walking and let him melt through the floor...  
  
The watercaster turned on his heel, broad smile and sandy hair flashing.  
  
"You _have_ had days off before, haven't you?"  
  
His ears burned; embarrassment prickled under his collarbone. Yuuto chuckled, apparently noting his unease, and took a step closer. "I'm only joking, Sumeragi-san. You're not offended--?"  
  
"N-no." He let out a breath, surprised at how firm his own voice sounded in his ears. "Sorry. It's been a long week."  
  
"All the more reason to take some time off. Do you like Italian food?"  
  
"I... guess so."  
  
"Well--there's a fantastic little bistro just down the block from my apartment. We could go and have lunch, if you wanted. My treat."  
  
_He's asking you out,_ a childish voice in his head piped up. _He's going to take you on a--_  
  
"I'd like that," he said quickly.  
  
"Wonderful."  
  
Yuuto's smile broadened just a bit, and he tipped his head towards the door. "Come on, then. Let's go."  
  
Sumeragi's legs felt oddly light beneath him as he moved to catch up with the other Angel. _It probably doesn't mean anything,_ he told himself, the words beginning to form a mantra in his head. _It's nothing. He just wants to have lunch. It's nothing at all, he's not flirting, he hasn't **been** flirting, we've only known each other for a day, don't be an idiot..._  
  
"Cigarette?" Yuuto asked.  
  
"Please."  
  
* * *   
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
The man standing on the threshold of the Imonoyama mansion was quite possibly taller than anyone Subaru had ever seen before--he felt himself shrinking back a little, faintly intimidated. It didn't help that the pajamas he'd borrowed from Sorata-san already made him feel abnormally short.  
  
"Ah... I'm sorry to bother you." His voice was a low rumble, a peal of distant thunder. "I think I have the wrong house."  
  
Subaru tugged at one too-wide pajama sleeve with nervous gloved fingers. "Who are you looking for?"  
  
"Nekoi Yuzuriha."  
  
"Oh! You're at the right house." A smile of relief spread over his features, warm and brilliant. "She just got up... may I ask for your name?"  
  
"Shiyu Kuasnagi." The older man paused, then frowned at Subaru a little. "Are you... related to her?"  
  
"Me? Oh, no. I'm just a friend." He brushed self-consciously at his sleep-rumpled hair and bowed a little. "Sumeragi Subaru--very pleased to meet you, Shiyu-san."  
  
Shiyu-san's eyes widened a little, and a frown creased his forehead. "Sumeragi--?"  
  
He nodded. "Just Subaru will do, though."  
  
"I..." Shiyu-san looked down, and the expression that tugged at his handsome, broad face was distinctly uncomfortable.  
  
"Don't want to sound rude, but I think I need to see her _very_ soon."   
  
* * *  
  
Kamui felt as if someone had struck him across the back of the neck with a live lightning rod.  
  
He'd looked up to meet the stranger's gaze, and his senses had filled with raw _power,_ the sudden jolting _knowledge_ that the man's tall body contained a Dragon waiting to spring free with hissing, wide jaws...  
  
"Whoa, you okay there?"  
  
...and as abruptly as the sensation had come, it was fading, leaving only tingles of blue heat buzzing around the insides of his skull. He was warm, and his knees felt sort of liquid... oh. He'd fallen, and someone had caught him. His cheek rubbed flannel as he looked up... and up, and up.  
  
No wonder Subaru had been fidgety when he'd told Kamui that Yuzuriha had a visitor.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled. "'m fine. Just... my head."  
  
"Anything I can do?"  
  
"I'll be okay." He stepped back a little, managing to force a slight smile. "Really."  
  
"Kusanagi-san?"  
  
Yuzuriha's voice, bright and anxious, rang out as she skidded into the room on bare feet. Inuki ran yipping behind her, biting at the cuffs of her socks as if they were moving chew-toys.  
  
"Missy!" His face brightened visibly with relief. "Sorry to drop in without asking--"  
  
"No, it's fine! I'm very glad to see you. Sit down, sit down--ah, Kamui-san, this is Shiyu Kusanagi-san, he's a friend of mine--"  
  
"You're one of them," Kamui said quietly.  
  
Yuzuriha turned red and sputtered something that could have been the tail end of a word; Kusanagi merely looked down at his hands.  
  
"It's okay, missy," he said softly. "You don't have to make any excuses for me."  
  
She fell silent. The _inugami_ seemed to sense something was wrong with his human, and sat quietly at her feet, small tail thumping soundlessly against the floor.  
  
"I'm not here to hurt anybody, and I know I'm gonna get in trouble for this. For coming here and telling you. But it's really important, and... I just don't wanna see you get hurt, little lady."  
  
Yuzuriha's cheeks pinked, but she reached over and laid her small hand over his. "Kusanagi-san..."  
  
"Your friend... Sumeragi-san. Something's not right with him."  
  
He felt his eyes go wide; his breath caught in his throat. _"What?"_  
  
"Our... our _Kamui_ brought him to stay with us the other day. As the Sakurazukamori."  
  
Kamui's knees turned to water.  
  
"I went to go see our _yumemi_ the other day to ask her something, and I saw him hanging out with one of the other guys... I don't stick around them much; they're all pretty crazy, if you want my opinion..."  
  
"Hanging out? What did he look like?"  
  
Kusanagi rubbed his forehead, as if trying to keep his frown from deepening. "Much older than the kid I met. Tall. Wore all black. And there was something funny about his right eye..."  
  
"Blind," Kamui murmured. His heart was doing something strange in his chest. The Subaru he'd known was still alive, still in pain, and... and he'd become the Sakurazukamori.  
  
But the Subaru who had turned unblinded green eyes on him over tea, yesterday... _who was he?_  
  
...or _what?_  
  
"Now, I have no idea if he's planning anything, or if--"  
  
"...blind in one eye?"  
  
All three of them looked up, startled; Subaru was standing in the doorway, holding a tray of teacups rather close to his thin chest. He looked somewhat embarrassed, as if he'd been caught eavesdropping--  
  
_Oh, no._  
  
"I'm--I'm sorry. I just thought maybe I should make some tea, and--I overheard a little--" He shifted his weight nervously. "I think I've seen that man before."  
  
"Sumeragi-san--" Kusanagi started, but Yuzuriha slid her hand more firmly over his, and spoke up.  
  
"Subaru-san, do you know what the Sakurazukamori is?"  
  
The boy's face darkened. Kamui was almost afraid to breathe.  
  
"My grandmother told me a little about them," he said softly. "The guardians of the Sakura--_onmyouji_ who use their magic to kill. They're a clan, but the head always becomes an assassin..."  
  
He shook his head a little, as if to clear it, but a thoughtful frown tugged at his pretty features. "You said he's blind in one eye... is he sort of tall and thin, sad-looking?"  
  
Kusanagi nodded once, clearly confused.  
  
"I knew it," Subaru said. "I _have_ seen him before."  
  
"You--but when? Where?" Kamui stammered.  
  
"Wait, Subaru-san--is he the one who--?"  
  
The boy nodded his agreement; on the sofa, Kusanagi looked very much like he'd walked in on the last five minutes of a murder mystery.  
  
"Who did what? Missy, what's he talking--"  
  
"You know what?" Yuzuriha was suddenly on her feet, smiling brightly. "Let's go see if Hien-san is up. We can make her some breakfast and you can play your violin for her. I'm sure that'll make her feel a lot better, don't you think?"  
  
"Well, uh--" Subaru blinked, but she was already pulling the tea-tray out of his hands.  
  
"Come on! You can borrow some clothes from Kamui-san. And then later we can go shopping, and..."  
  
In that way that only a cheerful teenage girl can manage, Yuzuriha hustled him out of the room, chattering a mile a minute, Inuki skidding across the floor after them.  
  
Kamui looked back at Kusanagi. The Angel was still staring at the open doorway, a faint half-smile playing across his face as he listened to that happy voice fading along the length of the hall. For all his muscle and height, he looked a little vulnerable--partly relieved that he'd passed on what he'd seen, and partly still anxious.  
  
_He really does care about her,_ Kamui thought.  
  
And he managed a smile.  
  
"Thank you for coming," he said.   
  
* * *  
  
Sumeragi hadn't liked the earthquakes that had wracked Tokyo when he first arrived, but now he found he wanted nothing better than for one to start up so the ground could open up and swallow him.  
  
Yuuto, as it turned out, lived on Odaiba, a vibrant little island on the far side of the Bay from Tokyo Tower. He hadn't sensed the protective magic of a _kekkai_ when the light rail train had brought them into the station; the place was probably still standing only because the Dark Kamui had decided it wasn't important enough to destroy--yet. For several horrible moments, though, he recalled hearing Yuzuriha chattering at Sorata about Odaiba's amusement park, and it had made him wonder whether Yuuto might ask him if he wanted to ride the ferris wheel.  
  
Fortunately, Yuuto had simply continued to tease him about the concept of vacation time, all concern and charm. Not just vacation time, either--he'd cajoled Sumeragi into sharing an obscenely large order of pasta, then stayed talking over the last few basil leaves for at least an hour. Yuuto, he'd soon found out, was a master of small talk: he chattered pleasantly about books, about the food, how oddly cold the weather had been lately. He'd coaxed a few personal details out of Sumeragi, as well--but those were ones he hadn't thought about in years. His favourite food, his favourite colour, the best neighbourhoods to visit in Kyoto during cherry season.  
  
It was the closest he'd been to anything normal in a very long time.  
  
Yuuto had first insisted on buying crepes--huge ones filled with chocolate--and then on taking him back to his apartment for coffee. Frankly, Sumeragi couldn't have said no even if he'd wanted to; the other man was so damn persistent in being charming _(just like Seishirou-san,_ he'd thought more than once) that he couldn't make himself refuse.  
  
And now, with a plain blue coffee mug between his hands and those clear eyes focused on him as if he were the only important person in the world...  
  
"Liking this whole 'day off' thing so far, Sumeragi-san?"  
  
"I... yeah. Thank you."  
  
Yuuto made a dismissive gesture and sipped his coffee. "You looked like you needed it. I don't think there's much point in working together if we can't get along, don't you agree?"  
  
Sumeragi "hmm"ed, and ran his fingertip around the rim of the mug nervously. His heart was an erratic drumbeat in his own ears; no matter how he willed it to just quiet down and leave him alone, it kept thumping, fast and hard, as if it were trying to escape his thin body altogether.  
  
"Sumeragi-san."  
  
His head snapped up. "Huh?"  
  
"Are you all right?" Yuuto's features _(god he's handsome,_ Sumeragi thought) were twisted in a concerned frown. "You've been acting odd all day... have I offended you?"  
  
"Oh... n-no, not at all, Kigai-san! It's not that--" Oh, shit. He was going to have to say something. "I'm really sorry... you've been very nice to me today, I had a great time--"  
  
"Then..." The watercaster tilted his head, that frown turning to an encouraging little smile. "What's wrong?"  
  
_Just say it,_ a voice at the back of his mind whispered through the terror that threatened to paralyse him. _You'll probably get struck by lightning, but hey, at least then you won't have to look him in the eye again..._  
  
"I'm attracted to you," he blurted.  
  
Dead silence.  
  
There was no lightning bolt, and he could feel embarrassment tensing the muscles in his legs, a cue from his subconscious that now would be a good time to get the hell out of here. But he couldn't quite bring himself to move.  
  
"I know we haven't known each other that long, and--and I know you're probably not interested or anything." Oh, god. He was going to get laughed at. He was sure Yuuto was going to laugh. "It--it's just--" Sumeragi swallowed hard, feeling his carefully constructed explanation turning to ash at the back of his throat. Yuuto's smile was slowly undoing him. "I mean, I--I'm twenty-five years old, and I've never even been kissed, and--and--you seem _nicer_ than any of the others, really..."  
  
"Mm, I see." That smile broadened just a little; Sumeragi felt his ears begin to burn. "I have to say I'm very flattered, Sumeragi-san."  
  
And then, suddenly, he was leaning across the table, his blue eyes shining with something that wasn't entirely mischief.  
  
"Would you like me to kiss you?" he murmured.  
  
Sumeragi blinked--hesitated--and realised he could feel Yuuto's warm breath rolling in faint waves against his skin.  
  
"Would you?" he whispered.  
  
"I'd be honoured."  
  
And he leaned in even further, and--  
  
Hokuto had taken a great deal of wicked pleasure in teasing him about kissing. Seishirou had often made a point of leaning in close during their fights, his empty gorgeous smile only a few inches from his cheek or forehead or lips while he purred some smug comment. Kamui's forehead had been pressed against his once, and he could have sworn he'd felt the boy feather an apologetic kiss against his bandaged hand when he woke up in the hospital with a blind right eye.  
  
None of those little hints could have prepared him for this.  
  
At first it was nothing more than a touch of lips--smooth to smooth, like kissing a warm piece of silk. Then Yuuto's lips parted, and he was teasing Sumeragi's mouth open with the tip of his tongue, breathing the taste of coffee into the kiss. He pulled in a quick breath out of sheer surprise--the contact was deliciously warm--and then, almost as if by instinct, began to tentatively push himself deeper into the kiss.  
  
Yuuto tasted wonderful. There was heat and faint salt in the smooth planes of his mouth; beneath the coffee taste there were hints of clove and chocolate, and something else he couldn't identify except as something that made him want to wrap his arms around the watercaster, pull their bodies close together, move against him in the same slow rhythm of that kiss...  
  
There was something soft on his face--Yuuto's hand--and then Sumeragi felt a shiver race up his spine as the other man pulled back.  
  
"How was that, Sumeragi-san?" he asked softly.  
  
It took him a moment to remember how to speak.  
  
"That... was good," he heard himself saying, rather lamely.  
  
"I'm glad." Yuuto tilted his head slightly, running his thumb over the curve of Sumeragi's cheek. "You're very attractive."  
  
"Kigai-san--"  
  
There was a moment of lull; he almost couldn't hear his own breathing. His whole body was warm with remembered pleasure.  
  
And then they were kissing again.  
  
This time Sumeragi responded more readily, leaning further over the small table to press his mouth more fully against Yuuto's. He felt the watercaster's hand slide into his hair, fingers stroking the back of his neck; he had to reach out and curl his hand around Yuuto's shoulder just to have something to hold on to. A slight, warm breath rolled across his tongue--a sigh.   
  
He needed to be closer.  
  
He broke the kiss, surprised at how quickly his own breath came and went, and offered Yuuto an apologetic half-smile. The other Angel stood and stepped around the side of the table; Sumeragi rose to his feet, and then Yuuto's arms were around his waist, one hand splayed at the small of his back.  
  
_You're very attractive.  
  
There are things people do when they're attracted to each other..._  
  
A slow ripple of warmth danced against his side; Yuuto was gently tugging at the tail of his shirt, pulling it up. Soft fingertips brushed at the bared skin just above his hip, teasing in a way that wasn't quite tickling. He felt his lungs expand with a sudden gasp as Yuuto's hand ghosted over one little hollow below his ribcage--the sensation was so unexpectedly _good_ it made his whole body arch.  
  
He broke the kiss to tilt his head to one side, letting out a low moan as Yuuto's mouth moved to his jawline and then his throat. His breath was hot, steady, sending warm shivers down his spine and shoulderblades and lower, pooling into a steady ache in his groin--  
  
He heard himself whimper, and his mind was so clouded he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed.  
  
People had hugged him before, or shaken his hand, or touched his shoulder reassuringly. Hokuto had been perhaps the only person who knew how sensitive his skin was--though she'd used it to tickle him mercilessly when he wouldn't tell her something. After she'd died and he'd buried himself in work and training... he'd just been too _busy_ to explore anything like this. He'd had dreams occasionally, but when he woke he could never remember them--not like he remembered his nightmares, full of stark and bloody detail.  
  
_why did I wait this long? why didn't anyone tell me this was so good? why can't I breathe and oh god why doesn't he stop teasing me--_  
  
"Please," he hissed.  
  
Yuuto's hand settled across the curve of his hip. "Please what?" he asked, and pushed his nose against the space just behind Sumeragi's ear.  
  
Was there a word for what he wanted, for the needles of hot sensation rushing up and down his spine? He couldn't think of it; his grip on language was dissolving completely as Yuuto's thumb traced an idle circle against the bare skin over his beltline.  
  
_"Please,"_ he repeated, desperate.   
  
And the watercaster pulled back.  
  
For a moment Sumeragi could only blink, a vague pulse of fear moving through his mind--was Yuuto going to ask him to leave?--but that hand didn't move from its place over the smooth arch of bone.  
  
"Come on," he said softly.  
  
In a heat-fogged daze, he let Yuuto lead him past the main room; he felt the backs of his legs hit something soft, and then his knees gave out and Yuuto's weight was smooth across his chest, their mouths pressed together for another sinuous, hard kiss. The watercaster's slim hips bore down on his gently, and the heat in his groin redoubled; suddenly his slacks were uncomfortably tight.  
  
He reached up to grip Yuuto's shoulderblades, and his hips rocked almost of their own accord--the more intense that heat became, the stronger the little lances of pleasure that raced through his tense muscles.  
  
Yuuto broke the kiss, nibbled gently at his lower lip.  
  
"Do you want to?" he asked, the words nearly a breath against Sumeragi's mouth.  
  
_god yes,_ he wanted to whisper. _yes. please yes. i don't know how you're doing this to me but please god don't stop..._  
  
His tongue was too thick with the taste of coffee and clean water to work properly; all he could do was nod.  
  
Yuuto's hand slid down his side again, playing over the hollows in his ribcage, slipping under his shirt to trace patterns over the flushed skin. His lips were everywhere on Sumeragi's face: dropping kisses against his closed eyelids, along his forehead, over the curves of his cheekbones. He only paused for a moment to blow a warm stream of breath along Sumeragi's ear--it wasn't even a touch, but it drew a long moan from his throat.  
  
_please don't tease me--_  
  
As if he'd read that thought from the lines of Sumeragi's body, Yuuto shifted his weight a little, and his hand moved lower. There was a faint tugging, and then his belt buckle was coming open--the fabric wasn't quite so tight against him, anymore--  
  
Yuuto touched him.  
  
Sumeragi's hands clenched tight enough to bruise on his shoulderblades; his head slammed back against the bedcovers even as his hips bucked into that touch. Yuuto's fingers were warm where they curled around that hard heat; this was a meeting of fire and fire, meant to burn itself out. The friction of skin on skin was slight but delicious, and it wasn't long before his hips found an erratic but swift rhythm, pushing up in short thrusts to counterpoint each increasingly firm stroke.  
  
_yes--_  
  
His world narrowed rapidly, becoming smaller and hotter. His head was spinning, throbbing, he was going to lose himself in this, he was at the edge of something immense and tingling. For a moment he felt like he was trying to run from a tidal wave, heart pounding and skin burning with the effort, until Yuuto did something swift and warm with his fingers and he could only stare as that wave towered over him--  
  
And then--  
  
--then--  
  
It was half like an electric shock and half like the backlash of a powerful white spell, bright and sharp, blocking out everything. He cried out, but the sound was barely a whisper in his own ears, drowned under a fierce wave of heat.  
  
His senses returned slowly, bringing in a sweeping tide of newness. Yuuto's breath moved in a steady rhythm against his throat; his hands were still tight on the watercaster's back. He could smell something vaguely sweet and musky, with the faint tang of coffee at its edge.  
  
He didn't think he'd ever been quite so warm.  
  
"You all right?" Yuuto asked.  
  
Sumeragi turned his head slightly to brush a kiss against the tangle of blond hair that half-obscured his vision.  
  
"Thank you," he breathed. "That was wonderful."  
  
"There's more," he whispered, nosing in to nuzzle Sumeragi's cheek.  
  
More? He shivered at that thought--there was something possibly more intense than that bright release, and Yuuto wanted to give it to him, actually took pleasure in teaching him what it was...  
  
"Show me?" he murmured.  
  
The watercaster's smile flashed at him before Sumeragi pulled him down for another long kiss.  
  
* * *  
  
"Oh--Subaru? Can you come here a moment?"  
  
The boy looked up from the shopping bags he'd been sorting through. "Um--give me a minute, Karen-san?"  
  
The older Seal chuckled. "Oh, dear. Let me guess, Yuzuriha took you out?"  
  
"She said I shouldn't keep wearing other people's clothes," he admitted, pinking slightly. "She acts _just_ like Hokuto on a shopping trip."  
  
"Well, it's probably for the best. I'm sure Sorata will want his pajamas back eventually, right?"  
  
She crossed the room in a few graceful strides, keeping one hand behind her back, and held out her free hand to him. "Come on. Up you get. I have something for you."  
  
He reddened further. "Something--?"  
  
Karen nodded. "I was going through my things and seeing if there's anything Hien-san could wear..."  
  
"Oh!" Subaru let her tug him to his feet. "Thanks--yeah, Nekoi-san and I were picking out some clothes for her, too. We found a really nice dress for her, it looked very pretty on Nekoi-san..."  
  
"That sounds lovely. Now..." She winked at him. "Close your eyes."  
  
Obediently he closed his eyes, a faintly confused look tugging at his delicate features. Something settled across his hair, slowly, something with a very definite weight and texture...  
  
"Okay, open."  
  
Subaru glanced around; the thing on his head moved a bit, almost like--  
  
He reached up and tugged it off.  
  
Karen had given him a flat, wide-brimmed black hat--a little worn-looking, maybe, but still in very good shape.  
  
She beamed. "I haven't worn that in a while, and you've got a good face for hats... it had a veil on it, so I took that off, but I think it suits you."  
  
"Karen-san... you really want me to have this?" Now his expression was _almost_ delighted, as if he were waiting for her to tell him, yes, it was okay for him to accept this gift and be happy about it.  
  
She took it and set it back on his head, smoothing one of his unruly black eartails with her fingertips.  
  
"It looks _very_ cute on you," she said. "And I don't wear it at all, so..."  
  
He looked up at her for another few heartbeats, then tentatively leaned over and linked his arms around her waist in a loose hug.  
  
"Thank you so much," he murmured. "Really."  
  
Her smile broadened. A part of her still wondered what had happened to the Sumeragi Subaru she'd known, to turn this innocence into withdrawn and bitter silence--but the rest of her was growing very fond of this sweet, effusive boy-self. Like Kamui, his vulnerability made her that much more certain that humanity was worth protecting: after all, if it could produce souls as kind and trusting as his, what other good things _couldn't_ it accomplish?  
  
She hugged him closer.  
  
"My pleasure, Subaru."   
  
* * *  
  
Sumeragi pulled back the curtain and let his forehead rest against the windowpane.  
  
One kiss had turned into two, then a dozen; Yuuto's hands had moved from his face to his collarbone, lower, lower still. Almost before he could take in what was going on, he'd found himself shivering, sweating, naked, his body fitted against Yuuto's as he drove towards painful, bright-edged climax...  
  
The city, beyond the cold layer of glass, glowed with motion.  
  
Yuuto had a perfect view of Rainbow Bridge.  
  
The edges of broken concrete and twisted metal gleamed like the body of a dead dragon in the water of Tokyo Bay. A floating corpse, immense and powerless. Useless. He could see the edge of his own reflection in the glass, the curve of a pale cheek covering the ruin's jagged shapes.  
  
Yuuto turned over in his sleep. He'd dropped off before Sumeragi had come back from the shower.  
  
Sumeragi closed his eyes.  
  
_"...will you read a little to me, Karen-san?"  
  
"The Bible?" Karen looked both amused and puzzled. "I didn't know you were interested."  
  
"Well..." He shrugged. "I've never been to a Christian church or anything, and--I thought you might want a little company. If you'd rather be alone, though--"  
  
"Not at all. Come and sit by me."  
  
She patted the space beside her on the narrow bed, and he sat, her smile sparking broad and welcoming as he settled.  
  
"My mother and I used to read the Bible together when I was very little," she said. "So... reading helps me remember the good times, as well as my faith. A good thing to share with a friend."  
  
He hesitated, looked down uncomfortably.  
  
"I wish I could remember my mother."  
  
Karen's hand settled on his shoulder.  
  
"She died a little while after Hokuto and I were born," he went on, picking shyly at the palm of one glove. "She got--very sick, very fast. And my dad didn't really talk about her much."  
  
"Did he remarry?"  
  
"He was in a car accident when I was four. I miss him, but... I really wish I could have known my mother."  
  
"I'm sure she'd be very proud of you, Subaru." Her hand slipped from his shoulder to rub a soothing circle between his shoulderblades. "In fact, I'm sure she **is** proud, right now."  
  
He felt a smile tugging at his lips, glanced up to look gratefully into her eyes.  
  
"I know she must have had a good heart," he said softly. "Just like Karen-san."  
  
For a moment, she looked startled, and then her eyes grew bright and just a little unfocused.  
  
"Why don't we read now?" she asked, her voice husky._  
  
Sumeragi's hand had become a fist against the glass.  
  
It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. He'd thought that getting rid of the _yumemi_ would ease this terrible jagged _ache_ in his chest--after all, destroying one instrument of destiny was a way of striking back at the whole damn mess. He'd thought that sharing a bed with someone who reminded him so strongly of Seishirou would make the loneliness that weighed him down lesser, lighter to bear.  
  
The hurt, the loneliness, the grief were no less intense. The man whose bed he'd slept in, if only for an hour, was a complete mystery to him; though his smile was as dangerous as Seishirou's, and his kisses had been warmer and stronger than the dreams the Sakura had given him, he wasn't Seishirou. He never could be.   
  
His heart had become small and brittle from being alone so long, and now that he had seen his younger self happy, trusting, touching lives...  
  
Sumeragi turned away from the view, closing his eyes against a stab of anger.  
  
_"...suffer the little children to come unto me," Karen read in her lilting voice as he leaned on her shoulder. "Forbid them not, for such is the Kingdom of God..."_  
  
He pushed himself away from the cold plate glass, and began scanning the room for his clothes.  
  
Yuuto made a sleepy noise, and lifted his head, blinking drowsily.  
  
"Sumeragi-san?" He yawned hugely. "Come to bed."  
  
"I can't. I'm sorry."  
  
"Something wrong?"  
  
He paused, watching the other Angel--his lover, now--stretch out languidly in the tangled bedclothes. The long expanse of bare, tanned skin along his naked torso gleamed in the half-light, all clean curves, like the crest of a wave.  
  
Sumeragi stooped to gather up his shirt.  
  
"I'm fine," he said. "I just thought of something I have to do."   
  
  
*`-,--  
  
The verse Karen reads here is Mark 10:14. 


End file.
